The Cosmic Choir Text: Psalm 148:7-12
Introduction: A Universe That Sings
We live in a disenchanted age. The modern secularist looks at the world and sees nothing but brute, random fact. He sees a collection of particles, governed by impersonal forces, signifying nothing. To him, a mountain is just a pile of rocks, the ocean is just a mass of agitated saltwater, and a king is just a man who got lucky in the power lottery. This is the great lie of materialism, the gray, soul-crushing dogma that has been draped over the Western mind. It is a worldview that has eyes but cannot see, and ears but cannot hear the music of reality.
But the Scriptures present us with a radically different vision. The Bible tells us that the universe is not silent; it is a symphony. It is not a random collection of things; it is a choir. Everything that exists, from the highest angel in heaven to the creepy-crawly on the floor, has a voice, and that voice is meant for one purpose: to praise the Lord. This psalm, Psalm 148, is a summons to that cosmic choir. The first half of the psalm calls on the heavens to praise God, the angels, the sun, the moon, the stars. But then, in our text, the call plunges from the heavens down to the earth. The conductor's baton sweeps from the celestial to the terrestrial, and everything under the sky is enlisted in the chorus.
This is not poetry in the sentimental sense. This is not a nice, pious metaphor for "appreciating nature." This is a description of the deep structure of reality. God created all things, and He created them with a purpose, a telos. And that purpose is to reflect His glory back to Him. Some of creation praises Him consciously, like angels and men. Much of it praises Him by simply being what He made it to be. A stormy wind praises God by obeying His word. A fruit tree praises God by bearing fruit. A king praises God by ruling justly. When we, as God's redeemed people, see the world this way, it changes everything. We are no longer living in a dead, meaningless cosmos. We are living in a theater of God's glory, a vast sanctuary, and we are the lead choir members, tasked with understanding the song and leading the rest of creation in it.
The secularist tries to silence this choir. He tries to tell the mountains and the seas that they have nothing to sing about. He tries to tell kings and children that they are autonomous, accountable to no one. But the song cannot be stopped. The rocks will cry out if they have to. Our task is to tune our ears to this music and to add our own voices to it, intelligently and joyfully.
The Text
Praise Yahweh from the earth,
Sea monsters and all deeps;
Fire and hail, snow and clouds;
Stormy wind, doing His word;
Mountains and all hills;
Fruit trees and all cedars;
Beasts and all cattle;
Creeping things and winged bird;
Kings of the earth and all peoples;
Princes and all judges of the earth;
Both choice men as well as virgins;
The old with the young.
(Psalm 148:7-12)
From the Depths to the Skies (v. 7-8)
The call to praise now pivots from the heavens to the earth, starting with the most mysterious and powerful elements.
"Praise Yahweh from the earth, Sea monsters and all deeps; Fire and hail, snow and clouds; Stormy wind, doing His word;" (Psalm 148:7-8)
The summons begins in the most untamed parts of creation. "Sea monsters," or dragons, and "all deeps." In the ancient pagan imagination, the deep was a place of chaos, the primordial enemy of order, often personified as a monstrous deity. But here, the sea monsters are not rival gods; they are part of the orchestra. The great whales, the giant squid, all the terrifying and wonderful creatures of the abyss are called to praise their Maker. The deep itself, the tehom, is not a threat to God; it is His creature, and it will praise Him.
Then the psalmist moves to the sky, to the meteorological forces that so often inspire awe and fear in man. "Fire and hail, snow and clouds." Lightning, destructive hail, blanketing snow, and thick vapor. These are not random, chaotic events. They are instruments in God's hand. And notice the last one: "Stormy wind, doing His word." This is the key that unlocks how all these things praise God. They are not sentient beings lifting their voices. They praise God by their absolute, unquestioning obedience. When God gives a command to the wind, it blows. It doesn't debate or form a committee. It does His word. This is a profound rebuke to us. Does the stormy wind obey God's word more readily than we do? The praise of the natural world is its perfect submission to the Creator's decree. Because God is sovereign, not one atom or weather pattern is a maverick. All of it, from the terrifying to the gentle, is fulfilling His purpose.
The Stable and Living Earth (v. 9-10)
From the dynamic forces of the sea and sky, the call moves to the fixed features of the landscape and its living inhabitants.
"Mountains and all hills; Fruit trees and all cedars; Beasts and all cattle; Creeping things and winged bird;" (Psalm 148:9-10)
The "mountains and all hills" praise God by their steadfastness, their grandeur, their silent testimony to the power of the One who set them in place. They declare the glory of God by just being there, solid and immovable. Then we have the plant kingdom, represented by two kinds of trees: the useful and the majestic. "Fruit trees and all cedars." One praises God by providing sustenance for man and beast, fulfilling its created purpose. The other praises God by its sheer magnificence, like the cedars of Lebanon. Both utility and beauty bring glory to God.
Next, the animal kingdom is summoned in its entirety. It is broken down into four categories that cover everything. "Beasts," which refers to wild animals. "And all cattle," the domesticated animals. "Creeping things," everything from insects to lizards. "And winged bird." Nothing is left out. The lion praises God with its roar and strength. The cow praises God by providing milk. The ant praises God by its industry. The eagle praises God by soaring in the heights. Each one glorifies God by being exactly what it was created to be. They don't have to try to be something else. The glory of God is displayed in the staggering diversity of His creation, each creature playing its unique note in the symphony.
The Human Chorus (v. 11-12)
Finally, after summoning all of non-rational creation, the call comes to its climax with mankind, the pinnacle of God's earthly work.
"Kings of the earth and all peoples; Princes and all judges of the earth; Both choice men as well as virgins; The old with the young." (Psalm 148:11-12)
This is a comprehensive summons to all of humanity, with no exceptions. Notice how the psalmist organizes it. First, he addresses humanity by rank and station. "Kings of the earth and all peoples." This is a vertical slice, from the top of the social ladder to the bottom. The king on his throne and the common man in the street are both under the same obligation. In fact, the king's obligation is greater, because his praise is to be rendered through just rule. Then he specifies further: "Princes and all judges of the earth." Those who wield civil authority are explicitly called to praise God. How? By acknowledging that their authority is delegated from Him and by judging righteously according to His standards. A godless ruler is a blasphemy, an instrument out of tune, a voice singing discord.
Then, the psalmist slices humanity horizontally, by age and sex. "Both choice men as well as virgins; The old with the young." Young men in their strength and young women in their beauty. The old, full of wisdom and experience, and the children, full of energy and potential. No one is exempt. There is no age limit on praise. There is no stage of life where this duty is suspended. All humanity, in all its diversity, in every culture, in every station, is created for this one thing: to praise the Lord.
Leading the Choir
There is a crucial difference between the praise of a snowstorm and the praise of a king. The snowstorm praises God involuntarily, by its created nature. The king, and every human being, is called to praise God consciously, willingly, and articulately. We are the choir directors of creation. We are the ones made in God's image, given rational minds and articulate voices, so that we can look at the sea monsters, the mountains, and the cedars, and say on their behalf, "Glory to God!"
When a geologist studies a mountain, he ought to conclude his research with doxology. When a marine biologist discovers a new creature in the deep, his first impulse should be worship. When a king establishes justice, he is leading his people in praise. This is what it means to take dominion under God. It means learning the song of creation and teaching it to others.
The fall, of course, is man's refusal to do this. Fallen man wants to be the one who is praised. He wants creation to serve him and sing to him. This is idolatry, and it is the source of all our chaos. Instead of leading the choir, fallen man tries to smash the instruments and tear up the sheet music. He looks at the world and refuses to see the glory of God in it.
But in Christ, we are restored to our proper place. Through the gospel, our mouths are opened again to sing God's praise. We are made new creations so that we can once again fulfill the original creation mandate. The Lord Jesus Christ is the ultimate choir director. He is the Word through whom all these things were made, and He is the one who is leading many sons to glory, teaching them the song of redemption.
Therefore, when we gather for worship, we are doing the most central and most human thing possible. We are fulfilling our created design. And we are not just singing for ourselves. We are gathering up the silent praise of the mountains, the obedient praise of the wind, and the instinctual praise of the beasts, and we are giving it a voice. We are speaking for all of creation, presenting its praise to the Father, through the Son, and by the Spirit. Let us, then, joyfully take our place in this cosmic choir, and praise the name of the Lord, for His name alone is excellent; His glory is above the earth and heaven.