The next perek of פסוקי דזימרא is based on the pasuk from אשרי:
רצון יראיו יעשה; ואת שועתם ישמע ויושיעם. But it doesn’t seem to be about יראיו; it seems to be about the universe and how it praises ה׳. It starts with הללו את ה׳ מן השמים and turns at פסוק ז to הללו את ה׳ מן הארץ, then summarizes in פסוק יג with הודו על ארץ ושמים. It’s not until the last pasuk that we get, somehow, to וירם קרן לעמו תהלה לכל חסידיו. We need to see how that all fits together.
The bulk of the perek is very symmetric between the שמים and ארץ:
As Rabbi Baumol points out, laying out the perek like this to illustrate the parallelism actually highlights the asymmetry.
One obvious difference is that the ארץ half is longer. The שמים half mixes the “spiritual” heavens (מלאכיו, שמי השמים) and the “physical” heavens (שמש וירח, כוכבי אור). The ארץ half mixes the physics of the earth (תהמות, אש וברד, הרים) with the biology (עץ פרי, בהמה). That much is parallel. Then it turns to human beings, who do not have any parallel in either the spiritual or physical heavens.
That marks the difference between the הללו את ה׳ of both שמים and the rest of ארץ. The created universe “sings” the praises of ה׳ simply by existing. We do that as well; our bodies are miracles of creation that declare ה׳'s greatness. But we are capable of more.
Rabbi Natan Slifkin translates צפרדע אומרת (and similar terms in פרק שירה) not as “the frog says”, but as “the frog is saying”.
So the conclusion of the שמים part is יהללו את שם ה׳;
כי הוא צוה ונבראו׃
ויעמידם לעד לעולם; חק נתן ולא יעבור: The שמים (and the first half of ארץ) follow immutable laws. Rav Hirsch points out that the punctuation of חק נתן is חׇק־נָ֝תַ֗ן, a single phrase. Read it not as “He gave the law”, but as “a given law” that cannot be violated.
So it’s very depressing. We can never be as good a human being as a frog can be a frog. We can never praise ה׳ as well as frogs can croak (in both senses of the word!). This is part of the symbolism of the spiritual שמים; the expressions שמי השמים and המים אשר מעל השמים don’t appear anywhere else in תהילים.
בן זומא, contemplating מעשה בראשית, identifies the מים העליונים with רוח אלקים that hovers over the מים התחתונים, separated by the רקיע that is only a handsbreadth thick. The רוח אלקים, which everywhere else in תנ״ך means “divine inspiration”, what we call רוח הקודש, is so close he could touch it. But he can’t reach it, and it drives him mad.
The המים אשר מעל השמים reminds us of our spiritual limitations.
So now what? David would still have all of us—young and old, male and female—praise ה׳. What’s the point? David concludes: יהללו את שם ה׳
כי נשגב שמו לבדו. I would read that as “Even though G-d is uniquely exalted” and הודו על ארץ ושמים—the heavens and earth reflect His glory. ה׳ apparently has no need for our הללויה. But ה׳ still wants us to praise Him. That’s all ה׳ wants from us; that is exactly what ה׳ wants from us. Rabbi Baumol cites the פיוט from יום כיפור:
Why? If our goal is to praise ה׳ for פרנסה, why can’t we do it froggy-style, and just be? Because if that’s the way we relate to הקב״ה, then we are missing the whole point of creation, and none of השמים מספרים כבוד א־ל matters.
Now, Rashi doesn’t think this fits the פשט:
But a few psukim before, Yirmiyahu makes exactly the same point, with very similar language:
So I think that is the message of the last pasuk:
בני ישראל became עם קרבו when קרבנו לפני הר סיני, and so bring תהלה לכל חסידיו, the ability to praise ה׳ to all the righteous.
The symphony of the universe is meaningless without our chorus of תורה, עבודה, וגמילות החסדים.