1 Happy the church, thou sacred place, The seat of thy Creator's grace; Thine holy courts are his abode, Thou earthly palace of our God.
2 Thy walls are strength, and at thy gates A guard of heavenly warriors waits; Nor shall thy deep foundations move, Fix'd on his counsels and his love.
3 Thy foes in vain designs engage, Against his throne in vain they rage, Like rising waves, with angry roar, That dash and die upon the shore.
4 Then let our souls in Zion dwell, Nor fear the wrath of Rome and hell: His arms embrace this happy ground, Like brazen bulwarks built around.
5 God is our shield, and God our sun; Swift as the fleeting moments run, On us he sheds new beams of grace, And we reflect his brightest praise.