1 How lovely, how divinely sweet,
O Lord, thy sacred courts appear!
Fain would my longing passions meet
The glories of thy presence there.
2 O, blest the men, blest their employ,
Whom thy indulgent favours raise
To dwell in those abodes of joy,
And sing thy never-ceasing praise.
3 One day within thy sacred gate
Affords more real joy to me,
Than thousands in the tents of state;
The meanest place is bliss with thee.
4 God is a sun; our brightest day
From his reviving presence flows;
God is a shield, through all the way,
To guard us from surrounding foes.
5 O Lord of hosts, thou God of grace,
How blest, divinely blest, is he,
Who trust thy love, and seeks thy face,
And fixes all his hopes on thee!
|First Line:||How lovely, how divinely sweet|
|Topic:||The Happiness of humble Worship; The Means of Grace: Public Worship|