Text: | How pleasant, how divinely fair |
1 How pleasant, how divinely fair,
O Lord of Hosts, Thy dwellings are!
With long desire my spirit faints
To meet th'assemblies of thy saints.
2 My flesh would rest in Thine abode;
My panting heart cries out for God:
My God! my King! why should I be
So far from all my joy and Thee!
3 Blest are the saints, who sit on high,
Around Thy throne above the sky:
Thy brightest glories shine above,
And all their work is praise and love.
4 Blest are the souls, who find a place
within the temple of Thy grace;
There they behold Thy gentler rays,
And seek Thy face, and learn thy praise.
5 Blest are the men whose hearts are set
To find the way of Zion's gate:
God is their strength; and through the road
They lean upon their helper, God.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | How pleasant, how divinely fair |
Meter: | L. M. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1870 |
Topic: | Delight in Worship; Praise: hymns of genearl praise; Worship: delight in |
Notes: | Author from index: Watts |