1 In Sion's sacred fane the joyous lay
Thy name attends; thy favour'd people pay
The votive offering, Lord; the hallow'd blood
Flows round thy altar in a purple flood.
2 Propitious, thou our faithful vows dost hear;
To thee shall fly the sons of men in pray'r.
3 Thy punishments for sin afflict me sore;
Cleanse me, my God, and they shall wound no more.
4 Blest is the man, whom thou shalt chuse a friend,
And in thy sacred temple bid attend!
O glorious lot! O heavenly employ!
Thy sacred temple fills his soul with joy.
5 The nations tremble with a dread dismay,
When thou thy righteous judgments dost display;
When fall thy terrors on the impious proud,
When crown thy bright rewards the humbly good.
6 Great is thy pow'r--when shatter'd by the storm,
Thou bid'st the mountain on her base stand firm.
7 By winds disturb'd, thou still'st the roaring sea,
And dost the tumults of the world allay.
8 Thy thunder rolls, thy rapid lightnings glare;
The hearts of all are sunk in awful fear:
Thy sun breaks forth, and gives to nature birth;
Owns thy beneficence the quicken'd earth:
9 Thou pour'st thy waters on the thirsty soil;
The fatten'd lands reward the ploughman's toil:
With fruitful show'rs revived thou the fields,
And the rich glebe it's golden produce yields:
10 Falls on the stubborn earth thy pearly dew;
The plains in all their verdant pride we view:
11 Or on the ridgey hills, or in the vales,
The glad'ning influence of thy pow'r prevails;
12 Gaily the herds along thy pastures rove;
Climb the steep cliff, or range the leafy grove;
Where'er they range, fair herbs and flow'rs abound;
Rich affluence covers the enamel'd ground;
Their God, the hills, the plains, the vallies sing,
And bless the bounties of their heav'nly king.