Praise the Lord; the Lord is gracious; sing to our God, a God who so claims our love; praise is his right.
The Lord is rebuilding Jerusalem, is calling the banished sons of Israel home;
He it is that heals the broken heart, and binds up its wounds.
Does he not know the number of the stars, and call each by its name?
How great a Lord is ours, how magnificent his strength, how inscrutable his wisdom!
The Lord is the defender of the oppressed, and lays the wicked low in the dust.
It’s a good thing to sing praise to our God;
praise is beautiful, praise is fitting.
God’s the one who rebuilds Jerusalem,
who regathers Israel’s scattered exiles.
He heals the heartbroken
and bandages their wounds.
He counts the stars
and assigns each a name.
Our Lord is great, with limitless strength;
we’ll never comprehend what he knows and does.
God puts the fallen on their feet again
and pushes the wicked into the ditch.