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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 joys and thee.
3 The sparrow chuses where to rest,
And for her young provides a nest;
But will my God to sparrows grant
That pleasure which his children want?
4 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.
5 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.
6 Blest are the men whose hearts are set
To find the way to Zion's gate;
God is their strength, and through the road
They lean upon their helper God.
7 Cheerful they walk with growing strength,
Till all shall meet in heaven at length,
Till all before thy face appear,
And join in nobler worship there.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | How pleasant, how divinely fair |
Title: | The Pleasure of public Worship |
Meter: | Long Metre |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1787 |
Scripture: | |
Topic: | Church: God's presence there; Delight: and safety in the church; Delight: in God(6 more...) |