Classic Poem

My soul, praise the Lord! O God, thou art great:
In fathomless works thyself thou dosthide.
Before thy dark wisdom and power uncreate,
Man's mind, that dare praise thee, in awe must abide.

The earth where we dwell, that journeys in space,
With air as a robe thou wrappest around:
Her countries she turneth to greet the sun's face,
Then plungeth to slumber in darkness profound.

Lo, there is thy sea, whose bosom below
With creatures doth teem, scaled fishes and finn'd:
Above, the ships laden with merchandise go,
Nor fear the wild waters, nor rage of rude wind.

All seemeth so sure, yet naught doth remain:
Unending their change obeys thy decree:
The valleys of ocean stand up a dry plain.
Thou whelmest the mountains beneath the deep sea.

O God, thou art great: no greatness I see,
Except thee alone, thy praise to record.
On all thy works musing my pleasure shall be:
My joy shall be singing, ‘My soul, praise the Lord!’