604_Let everything that breathes praise the Lord (Psalm 150)

Psalm 150 Praise the Lord!
Praise God in his sanctuary;
praise him in his mighty heavens!
2 Praise him for his mighty deeds;
praise him according to his excellent greatness!

3 Praise him with trumpet sound;
praise him with lute and harp!
4 Praise him with tambourine and dance;
praise him with strings and pipe!
5 Praise him with sounding cymbals;
praise him with loud clashing cymbals!
6 Let everything that has breath praise the Lord!
Praise the Lord!

There is a well-known story about Johann Sebastian Bach, one of the greatest composers who ever lived. On many of his musical manuscripts, Bach would write three simple letters at the bottom of the page: S.D.G. — Soli Deo Gloria, “To God alone be the glory.” Music historians tell us that Bach did this not because every piece was written for church use, but because every piece, in his mind, was an act of worship. Whether he was composing a sacred cantata or a simple melody, he believed that sound itself was a gift from God, and the highest purpose of that gift was praise. That simple conviction captures the heartbeat of Psalm 150. When all words have been spoken, when all prayers have been prayed, when all struggles have been fought and all journeys completed, what finally remains is praise.

We have come to the last of the Hallelujah psalms and, fittingly, to the final psalm in the entire book of Psalms. The Psalter does not end with a lament, a confession, or even a teaching. It ends with an unrestrained, passionate summons to praise. Thirteen times in just six verses, the word “praise” rings out like the repeated strike of a cymbal. It is as if the psalmist wants to leave no room for silence. The book that began with “Blessed is the man” now ends with “Let everything that breathes praise the Lord.” Once everything is over—when our life on earth has run its course, when the battles are finished, when our bodies rest in the grave—praise does not stop. As Psalm 145:2 declares, “Every day I will bless you and praise your name forever and ever.” Praise is not merely the language of earth; it is the language of eternity.

The psalm opens with a call that is both majestic and intimate: “Praise God in his sanctuary; praise him in his mighty firmament.” The word “God” here points to the sovereign Creator, the One who spoke the heavens into existence. It awakens awe and reverence in our hearts. Yet the repeated cry “Praise the LORD”—Yahweh—draws us into relationship and closeness. He is not only the transcendent God above the heavens; He is the covenant Lord who walks with His people. The psalmist invites praise in the sanctuary, which for an Israelite meant the visible temple, the sacred place where God’s presence was uniquely manifested. But he does not stop there. He expands the invitation to the firmament itself, the vast expanse of the heavens, reminding us that there is no place where God is absent. Whether in a holy building or under an open sky, whether in gathered worship or quiet solitude, all space is fitting for praise.

Verse two moves us deeper into the reason for worship: “Praise him for his mighty deeds; praise him according to his excellent greatness.” Our praise is anchored in both what God has done and who God is. The mighty deeds of the Lord remind us of His actions in history and in our own lives—His acts of salvation, provision, protection, and deliverance. Each remembered act becomes a testimony of His unfailing love. At the same time, His “excellent greatness” draws our attention beyond specific blessings to His very nature—His holiness, power, wisdom, and glory. Worship that remembers only blessings can become shallow; worship that remembers only attributes can feel distant. Psalm 150 brings the two together. The greatness of God evokes awe and reverence, while His deeds toward us awaken tenderness, gratitude, and love.

From verses three to five, the psalmist’s vision widens again, calling for music in all its richness and diversity. Trumpet, lute, harp, tambourine, strings, pipe, cymbals—no instrument is excluded. It is as though the psalmist stands before an orchestra of God’s people, raising his hands and conducting a symphony of praise. Wind instruments, stringed instruments, and percussion all join together to honor a God who is beyond measure. The variety of instruments reflects the fullness of praise. God is not honored by monotony but by the offering of all our creativity and expression.

David, the sweet psalmist of Israel and a skilled musician himself, understood this well. In Psalm 57 he cries out, “My heart is steadfast, O God, my heart is steadfast! I will sing and make melody! Awake, my glory! Awake, O harp and lyre! I will awake the dawn!” For David, praise was not passive or restrained. It was something that stirred the soul, something that even summoned the morning itself to awaken. Again and again in the Psalms we see this pattern. Psalm 33 urges God’s people to give thanks with the lyre, to sing a new song, and to play skillfully with joyful shouts. Psalm 98 calls the whole earth to break forth into joyous song, blending voices with trumpets and horns before the King. Even beyond the Psalms, Isaiah declares, “The LORD will save me, and we will play my music on stringed instruments all the days of our lives, at the house of the LORD.” The prayer of Habakkuk ends with a note to the choirmaster, reminding us that even prophetic prayer was meant to be sung.

Music has a unique way of awakening the soul. It reaches places that spoken words sometimes cannot. A melody can linger in our hearts long after the song has ended, accompanying us through ordinary tasks and difficult moments. In verse five, the psalmist speaks of sounding cymbals and loud clashing cymbals. This is not timid praise. The instruments are to be played with strength and celebration, filling the space with sound. Praise here is wholehearted, unembarrassed, and joyful.

Then comes the climactic final verse: “Let everything that has breath praise the LORD!” With this line, the circle of praise expands to its widest point. The invitation is no longer limited to musicians, worshipers, or even humanity alone. Everything that breathes is called to praise. God is the giver of breath. He formed humanity from the dust and breathed into us the breath of life. As Psalm 104 reminds us, when God takes away that breath, creatures return to the dust. Every breath we inhale is a gift sustained by His mercy. Praise, then, is the most fitting response to life itself.

This vision of universal praise points us forward to what Scripture says will one day be fully realized. Revelation 5:13 gives us a glimpse of that future: “Every creature which is in heaven and on the earth and under the earth and such as are in the sea, and all that are in them” lifting their voices together, declaring blessing, honor, glory, and power to the One who sits on the throne and to the Lamb forever. Psalm 150 is not only the conclusion of the Psalms; it is a rehearsal for eternity.

The book of Psalms ends with a single word: Hallelujah. Praise the LORD. It is as if God wants the final word on our lips to be praise. But Psalm 150 does not only ask how loudly or beautifully we sing; it challenges how we live. If every breath is a gift from God, then every breath can become an offering of praise. Praise is not confined to a sanctuary or a song. It is expressed in obedience, gratitude, generosity, and trust. It is lived out when we choose faith over fear, thanksgiving over complaint, and hope over despair.

A simple, practical way to live Psalm 150 is to become more aware of our breathing itself. Each breath can remind us, “This is from God.” In moments of joy, let praise rise naturally. In moments of weariness or sorrow, let praise become a deliberate act of faith. We may not always feel like singing, but we can still choose to acknowledge God’s greatness and goodness. As long as there is breath in our lungs, there is a reason to praise.

Let Hallelujah be more than a word we sing at the end of a psalm. Let it become the rhythm of our lives—on ordinary days and difficult days, in public worship and private moments, until the day when our earthly breath gives way to eternal praise in the presence of the Lord.