1 How pleasant, how divinely fair,
O LORD of hosts, your dwellings are!
With long desire my spirit faints
to see the shining hosts of saints.
My flesh would rest in you abode;
my weary heart cries out for God:
"My God! My King! Why should I stay
far from the joys of endless day?"
2 The sparrow has a place to rest,
and for her young provides a nest,
but will my God to them alone
pour out his mercy from the throne?
Blest are the saints who dwell on high
around your throne, above the sky;
their brightest glories shine above,
and all their work is praise and love.
3 Great God, attend, while Zion sings
the joy that from your presence springs;
to spend a day within your courts
exceeds a thousand days apart.
You are our sun, you bless our day;
and you our shield, to guard our way
from all assaults of hell and sin,
from foes without and fears within.
4 All needed grace you will bestow,
and crown that grace with glory too;
you give all things, and you withhold
no heav'nly good from upright souls.
O God our King, whose sov'reign sway
the glorious hosts of heav'n obey,
display your grace, exert your pow'r,
till all on earth your name adore.
Source: Christian Worship: Psalter #84C
|First Line:||How pleasant, how divinely fair|
|Title:||The Pleasure of Public Worship|