Classic Poem

O Lord, how lovely is thy bride,
The church thy spouse confest;
The regions where her saints reside,
How beautiful and blest!

My soul has made thy house her choice,
And longs thy court to see;
My heart and earning flesh rejoice,
Thou God of life in thee.

Yea, there the sparrow takes her perch,
And builds her house on high,
And swallows in their maker's church
Their craving nest supply.

These freely haunt the sacred walls,
And to thine altars cling;
O Lord of hosts, whom rapture calls,
My Saviour and my king.

They are the blest, that in thy courts
As in their homes remain,
And whom eternal grace supports
Thy praises to sustain.

The man is blessed, as he prays,
Whose reins thy strength receive,
And in whose heart thy word and ways
A deep impression leave.

As thro' this vale of tears he goes,
He purifies his flesh,
And washes, while the fountain flows,
Which rain and dews refresh.

Increasing still from strength to strength,
Such pilgrims urge their race,
And they shall see the Lord at length
In Zion, face to face.

O Lord, thou God of hosts descend
To these the pray'rs I make,
Thou God of Jacob's seed attend
For Jesus Christ his sake.

O Lord, let these my sighs induce
Thy mercy to look down
To him, on whom thou pour'd thy cruse,
And plac'd Judea's crown.

For but a day of love and fear
Within thy blest abode
Is better than the livelong year
On vain pursuits bestow'd.

Me would the service better please
God's temple-door to keep,
Than dwell, where pomp and pow'r at ease
On gorg'ous pillows sleep.

For Christ our light and shield shall give
An infinite reward
Of ev'ry good to them that live
A life unto the Lord.

O Lord, thou God, whom wise and just
The hosts of heav'n proclaim,
The man is blest, that puts his trust
In thy thrice-hallow'd name.