O Lord Most High,
From all that dwell below the skies let Your praise rise like incense! Let every voice, every breath, every broken hallelujah be gathered before Your throne. Let oceans roar and rivers clap their hands, let trees lift their limbs like arms in worship and let even my weary heart join in the song.
“Let everything that has breath praise the Lord! Praise the Lord!” (Psalm 150:6)
And yet, Lord,
Sometimes the breath in me feels heavy. Sometimes the song feels far away. There are days I want to praise You, but sorrow clogs my throat like stones. There are nights when I feel the weight of silence more than the sound of Your nearness.
But You, O God, are not far. You are not deaf to the cries of the crushed.
“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18)
Even when I can’t see You—You are still worthy. Even when I doubt—You remain faithful. Even when I’m weak—You are still strong.
“From all that dwell below the skies,
Let the Creator’s praise arise!
Let the Redeemer’s name be sung
Through every land, by every tongue.”
Let it be sung in broken places—in prisons, in hospital beds, in homes where grief lingers and hope flickers. Let it be sung in my own soul, where doubt and faith wrestle in the dark.
You are my Creator—I am not a mistake.
You are my Redeemer—my story is not over.
You are my Sustainer—and I will not be lost in this storm.
“From east to west the sun shall rise,
And bring Your glory to our eyes.”
Yes, Lord—let Your glory rise again in me. Not just on Sunday mornings, but in Monday’s pain, Tuesday’s loneliness, Wednesday’s weariness, and all the long nights in between.
“You, O Lord, are enthroned forever;
You are remembered throughout all generations.” (Psalm 102:12)
Your truth is not shaken by my questions. Your love is not weakened by my failures. Your holiness is not dimmed by the shadows of this world.
So I join the ancient song. I whisper it through tears. I proclaim it through cracked lips. I lift it up with trembling hands:
“Eternal are Your mercies, Lord;
Eternal truth attends Your Word.
Your praise shall sound from shore to shore
Till suns shall rise and set no more.”
Until that eternal morning comes—when sorrow dies and joy has no end—keep me singing. Even if it’s only a whisper, even if it’s only a groan too deep for words, let it rise.
From all that dwell below the skies, let Your praise arise in me.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen