The Spirit of Praise.
"Bless the Lord, O my soul: and all that is within me, bless His holy name." Wake up my memory, and find matter for the song. Tell what God has done for me in days gone by. Fly back, ye thoughts, to my childhood, sing of cradle-mercies. Review my youth and its early favors. Sing of long-suffering grace which followed my wanderings, and bore with my rebellions. Review before my eyes that gladsome hour when first I knew the Lord, and tell over again the matchless story of His mercy. Awake up my judgment, and give measure to the music. Come forth my understanding, and weigh His lovingkindness in the balance. See if thou canst count the small dust of His mercies. See if thou canst estimate the unsearchable riches which God hath given thee in His unspeakable gift of Christ Jesus. Recount His eternal love to thee. Reckon up the treasures of that everlasting covenant which He made on thy behalf, and which was "ordered in all things and sure." Sing aloud of that divine wisdom which contrived, of that love which planned, and of that grace which carried out the scheme of thy redemption. "Bless the Lord, O my soul!" For doth not all nature around me praise Him? If I were silent I should be an exception to the universe. Doth not the thunder praise Him as it rolls like drums in the march of the God of Armies? Do not the mountains praise Him when the woods upon their summits wave in adoration? Does not the lightning write His name in letters of fire upon the midnight darkness? Hath not the whole earth a voice, and shall I, can I, be silent? "Bless the Lord, O my soul."