Psalm 146 (KJV)
Praise ye the Lord. Praise the Lord, O my soul.
While I live will I praise the Lord: I will sing praises unto my God while I have any being.
Put not your trust in princes, nor in the son of man, in whom there is no help.
His breath goeth forth, he returneth to his earth; in that very day his thoughts perish.
Happy is he that hath the God of Jacob for his help, whose hope is in the Lord his God:
Which made heaven, and earth, the sea, and all that therein is: which keepeth truth for ever:
Which executeth judgment for the oppressed: which giveth food to the hungry. The Lord looseth the prisoners:
The Lord openeth the eyes of the blind: the Lord raiseth them that are bowed down: the Lord loveth the righteous:
The Lord preserveth the strangers; he relieveth the fatherless and widow: but the way of the wicked he turneth upside down.
The Lord shall reign for ever, even thy God, O Zion, unto all generations. Praise ye the Lord.
Devotion
The Psalms speak to our hearts in sublime and richly layered metaphors, yet they also address our minds with striking simplicity. Psalm 146 begins and ends with praise: “Praise the Lord, O my soul.” Framing this doxology is a sober and timely warning: “Put not your trust in princes.”
During this season of personal reflection, the psalm calls us to examine where our confidence truly lies—whether in political leaders, institutions, financial security, or even our own religious performance. The psalmist reminds us that when human breath departs, human plans perish. In this season of repentance, we confess how easily we lean on fragile supports, and we turn again to the Lord who alone “keeps faith forever.”
Here we encounter themes central to our faith tradition: the Lord reigns eternally; the Lord executes justice; the Lord lifts up the oppressed and cares for the widow, the orphan, and the stranger. God’s sovereignty is not abstract control but covenant faithfulness. In our worship, we are schooled to praise a King whose reign is righteous and whose mercy is concrete and particular. Lent sharpens this confession. If Christ is the enthroned King, then our lives must bear witness to his kingdom—not merely in private devotion, but in public righteousness and steadfast obedience.
At this time of year, I am drawn to reflect on the life and legacy of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German theologian who left the safety of America to return to Germany and resist the idolatry of the Nazi regime, knowing it might cost him his life. He was executed in a Nazi prison in April 1945, only days before the war in Europe ended. In an age when many Christians placed their trust in a national leader, Bonhoeffer insisted that the church belongs to Christ, not to the state. His call to “costly grace” echoes the psalm’s realism about human power: earthly rulers fail, but the Lord remains faithful. Bonhoeffer understood that true discipleship may require suffering, because allegiance to the living God relativizes every earthly claim. Lent, as it leads us toward the cross, teaches us the same lesson.
Prayer
From Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers from Prison (1944):
“God, to you I call at early dawn.
Help me to pray and to concentrate my thoughts on you;
I cannot do this alone.
In me there is darkness,
But with you there is light;
I am lonely, but you do not leave me;
I am feeble in heart, but with you there is help;
I am restless, but with you there is peace.
In me there is bitterness, but with you there is patience;
I do not understand your ways,
But you know the way for me.”
Tim Rugh
Hymn
Praise, My Soul, the King of Heaven (Henry Francis Lyte, 1834): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=60JgQoJK9J8