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Then say I, What is man, that he remember'd is by thee? Or what the son of man, that thou so kind to him should'st be?

When I look up unto the heav'ns, which thine own fingers fram'd, Unto the moon, and to the stars, which were by thee ordain'd

For thou a little lower hast him than the angels made; With glory and with dignity thou crowned hast his head. Of thy hands' works thou mad'st him lord, all under's feet didst lay

How excellent in all the earth, Lord, our Lord, is thy name!

How excellent in all the earth, Lord, our Lord, is thy name! Who hast thy glory far advanc'd above the starry frame.