Psalm 150: The Last Word Is Praise
And so the Psalter ends as it must — not with a question, not with a plea, not even with a lesson, but with sheer, unembarrassed, full-throated praise. Every instrument the psalmist can think of is summoned: trumpet, psaltery, harp, timbrel, strings, organs, cymbals loud and louder still. It is as if the poet, having journeyed through every shade of human experience — the laments, the doubts, the desperate midnight prayers, the songs of deliverance — arrives at last at the only destination that makes sense of it all. Praise God in his sanctuary. Praise him in the firmament of his power. Praise him for his mighty acts and according to his excellent greatness. The repetition is not laziness; it is the only honest response to a reality that outstrips our capacity to describe it. And then comes the final line, the one toward which all one hundred and fifty psalms have been traveling: "Let every thing that hath breath praise the Lord." Not every thing that understands, or every thing that deserves to, but every thing that breathes. Your next breath is itself an invitation. Praise ye the Lord.
00:00 Praise in His Sanctuary and Firmament
00:15 The Full Orchestra of Worship
00:30 Every Breath, the Final Hallelujah