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Psalm 147:1–11

aPraise ye the Lord:

For bit is good to sing praises unto our God;

cFor it is pleasant; and dpraise is comely.

eThe Lord doth build up Jerusalem:

He fgathereth together gthe outcasts of Israel.

hHe healeth ithe broken in heart,

And kbindeth up their wounds.

lHe telleth the number of the stars;

mHe calleth them all by their names.

uGreat is our Lord, and oof great power:

pHis understanding is infinite.

qThe Lord rlifteth up the meek:

He casteth the wicked down to the ground.

sSing unto the Lord with thanksgiving;

Sing praise upon the tharp unto our God:

Who covereth the heaven with clouds,

uWho prepareth rain for the earth,

vWho maketh grass to grow upon the mountains.

wHe giveth to the beast his food,

And xto the young ravens which cry.

10  He delighteth not in the strength of ythe horse:

He taketh not pleasure in the legs of a man.

11  zThe Lord taketh pleasure in them that fear him,

aIn those that hope in his mercy.

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