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 her 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 of majesty; Thy brightest glories shine above, And all their work is praise and love.
5 Blest are the souls that 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 Sion's gate; God is their strength, and thro' 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.