When I consider your heavens,
The work of your fingers,
The galaxies spun out in space,
The countless suns winking in and out,
Your creation from a single thought,
Gently shaped, your handiwork,
The moon and stars that you have ordained:
What is man that you are mindful of him?
What are we, that you should deign to come among us?
The son of man, that you should become to save us?
Yet you have made us a little lower than God,
And you made God as low as man
To bring us to yourself.
Your have crowned us with glory and honor
And let us glimpse your creation.
O Lord, how excellent your Name
In all the earth
And all the farthest reaches of the heavens—
How excellent your Name, O Lord!