5 Sing to the Lord, exalt him high, Who spreads his cloud all round the sky, There he prepares the fruitful rain, Nor lets the drops descend in vain.
6 He makes the grass the hills adorn, And clothes the smiling fields with corn, The beasts with food his hands supply, And the young ravens when they cry.
7 What is the creature's skill or force, The sprightly man, the warlike horse, The nimble wit, the active limb? All are too mean delights for him.
8 But saints are lovely in his sight; He views his children with delight: He sees their hope, he knows their fear, And looks and loves his image there.