Benedic, anima mea
Praise the Lord, O my soul. *
O Lord my God, you have become exceedingly glorious; you are clothed with majesty and honor.
You clothe yourself with light as with a garment, *
and spread out the heavens like a curtain.
You lay the beams of your chambers in the waters, *
and make the clouds your chariot, and walk upon the wings of the wind.
You make winds your messengers, *
and flames of fire your ministers.
You laid the foundations of the earth, *
that it never should move at any time.
You cover it with the deep as with a garment; *
the waters stand above the hills.
At your rebuke they fled; *
at the voice of your thunder they hastened away.
They went up as high as the hills, and down to the valleys beneath, *
even to the place you had appointed for them.
You have set bounds for them which they shall not pass; *
neither shall they again cover the earth.
You send the springs into the rivers, *
which run among the hills.
All beasts of the field drink thereof, *
and the wild donkeys quench their thirst.
Beside them shall the birds of the air have their habitation *
and sing among the branches.
You water the hills from above; *
the earth is filled with the fruit of your works.