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My hands made a flute,
    my fingers a lyre.
Let me give glory to the Lord,
    I thought to myself.

The mountains
cannot witness to God;
    the hills cannot proclaim him.
But the trees have cherished
my words,
    the flocks my deeds.

Who can proclaim,
    who can announce,
    who can declare the Lord’s deeds?
God has seen everything;
God has heard everything;
God has listened.

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