Praise the Lord!

Dear friends in Christ,

What a tender and majestic invitation the Lord extends to us in Psalm 113! As we open this beloved portion of Scripture together, let us come with hearts warmed by the same grace that first called us to Himself. We cherish how the Psalms lift our eyes to the sovereign God who rules all things for His glory and our good. Psalm 113, part of the Egyptian Hallel sung by our Lord Jesus at the Passover meal, calls us not to mere ritual but to joyful, unending worship. Here we see the high and holy One stooping low in mercy—exalting the humble not because of their merit, but by His free and sovereign grace alone. Let us linger exegetically over this psalm, verse by verse, and let it kindle fresh devotion in our souls.

“Praise the Lord! Praise, O servants of the Lord, praise the name of the Lord! Blessed be the name of the Lord from this time forth and forevermore! From the rising of the sun to its setting, the name of the Lord is to be praised!” (vv. 1–3)

The psalm opens with a triple call to praise—three times the servants of the Lord are summoned to bless His name. In the original Hebrew, this is no casual suggestion; it is a command rooted in covenant relationship. Who are these “servants”? In the Old Testament context, they are the redeemed people of Israel, delivered from Egypt. Yet from a Christian vantage, we see ourselves here too: those whom God has sovereignly called out of darkness into His marvelous light (1 Pet. 2:9). Our praise is not optional; it flows from hearts regenerated by the Spirit. And notice the scope—universal and perpetual! From dawn to dusk, across every nation and every age, the name of Yahweh is worthy. This is no tribal deity confined to one people or one hour; He is the covenant-keeping Lord whose glory fills the earth. Beloved, in your daily labors, in your quiet mornings and weary evenings, does your heart rise in this ceaseless praise? What comfort to know that even when we falter, the church throughout the world joins the chorus!

“The Lord is high above all nations, and his glory above the heavens! Who is like the Lord our God, who is seated on high, who looks far down on the heavens and the earth?” (vv. 4–6)

Here the psalmist pauses in awe at God’s transcendence. He is enthroned above the nations—far above every earthly power, every proud empire, every fleeting human scheme. His glory towers even beyond the heavens themselves. Yet immediately the question comes: “Who is like the Lord our God?” The answer, of course, is no one. He is incomparable. And what breathtaking condescension follows! This exalted King “looks far down” upon the heavens and the earth. The Hebrew verb here carries the sense of stooping or bending low, like a loving father leaning over a cradle. In Reformed theology, we glory in this truth: our God is both infinitely sovereign and intimately near. He is not a distant watchmaker who winds the universe and walks away; He is the covenant God who draws near in grace. This is the same God who, in Christ, “though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself” (Phil. 2:6–7). How our hearts should melt at such love!

“He raises the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the ash heap, to make them sit with princes, with the princes of his people. He gives the barren woman a home, making her the joyous mother of children. Praise the Lord!” (vv. 7–9)

Now the psalm reaches its sweetest crescendo. The same God who reigns on high stoops to the dust—the very place of death and despair. The poor and needy, the barren and hopeless: these are not overlooked. He raises them up, not by their striving, but by His mighty hand. In the ancient world, sitting “with princes” meant honor, security, inheritance. The barren woman—echoing Sarah, Hannah, and Rachel—receives fruitfulness and joy. Exegetically, this recalls Israel’s own deliverance from slavery, lifted from the ash heap of Egypt to the promised land. But how much richer is the gospel fulfillment! Through redeemed eyes, this is pure sovereign grace. We were all poor sinners, lying in the dust of rebellion; we were spiritually barren, unable to produce one good fruit for God. Yet in Christ, God has “raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places” (Eph. 2:6). The barren church—once fruitless among the Gentiles—now overflows with children of God from every tribe. This is not reward for effort; it is the free gift of the King who delights to exalt the lowly. Soli Deo gloria!

As the early church father Irenaeus so beautifully captured this wonder of God’s condescending grace, “The glory of God is a living man; and the life of man consists in beholding God.” In beholding this high-and-humble Lord of Psalm 113—in seeing Him lift us from dust to dignity—we truly live. Our praise becomes the very breath of eternal life.

Beloved brothers and sisters, let Psalm 113 shape your week. When pride whispers that you must climb to God by your own strength, remember: He stoops first. When despair whispers that your barren places will never bloom, remember: He delights to make the desolate fruitful. Rise each morning and let the name of the Lord be praised—from the rising of the sun until its setting. And when evening falls, rest in the arms of the same sovereign Savior who has already seated you with princes in the heavenly realms.

Praise the Lord! May His warm, fatherly grace fill your hearts anew today. Amen.