Fathers

Psalms 147

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Praise Yah, for it is good to sing praises to our God; for it is pleasant and fitting to praise him. Yahweh builds up Jerusalem. He gathers together the outcasts of Israel. He heals the broken in heart, and binds up their wounds. He counts the number of the stars. He calls them all by their names. Great is our Lord, and mighty in power. His understanding is infinite. Yahweh upholds the humble. He brings the wicked down to the ground. Sing to Yahweh with thanksgiving. Sing praises on the harp to our God, who covers the sky with clouds, who prepares rain for the earth, who makes grass grow on the mountains. He provides food for the livestock, and for the young ravens when they call. He doesn’t delight in the strength of the horse. He takes no pleasure in the legs of a man. Yahweh takes pleasure in those who fear him, in those who hope in his loving kindness. Praise Yahweh, Jerusalem! Praise your God, Zion! For he has strengthened the bars of your gates. He has blessed your children within you. He makes peace in your borders. He fills you with the finest of the wheat. He sends out his commandment to the earth. His word runs very swiftly. He gives snow like wool, and scatters frost like ashes. He hurls down his hail like pebbles. Who can stand before his cold? He sends out his word, and melts them. He causes his wind to blow, and the waters flow. He shows his word to Jacob, his statutes and his ordinances to Israel. He has not done this for just any nation. They don’t know his ordinances. Praise Yah!

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What the Fathers say

Psalms 147:16

Western Saints

Augustine of Hippo

We then are burdened by the sluggishness of this cold body, and the bonds of this earthly and corruptible life; have we no hope of receiving "the Word," which "runneth even unto swiftness"? or hath abandoned us, though by the body we are depressed to the lowest depths? Did not He predestinate us, before we were born in this mortal and sluggish body? He then, who predestinated us, gave snow to the earth, even ourselves. For now let us come to those somewhat obscure verses of the Psalm, let those entanglements begin to be unrolled. …

Exposition on Psalm 147 ↗

Jerome

Who gives snow like wool, who scatters mist like ashes. He sends his crystal like morsels. See how great is the difficulty, how obscure are the things that are said. Before the face of his cold, who shall stand? Whose? Nothing is said. Let us see, then, from the beginning what is said. And he fills you with the fat of the wheat: he sends forth his word to the earth, swiftly runs his word. Suddenly, what follows? Who gives snow like wool. …

Homily 57, on Psalm 147 ↗