Classic Poem

How amiable, how fair,
O Lord of Hosts! to me,
Thy tabernacles are!
My flesh cries out for Thee;
My heart and soul, with heaven-ward fire
To Thee, the living God, aspire.

The sparrow here finds place
To build her little nest;
The swallow's wandering race
Hither return and rest;
Beneath thy roof their young ones cry,
And round thine altar learn to fly.

Thrice-blessed they who dwell
Within thine house, my God!
Where daily praises swell,
And still the floor is trod
By those, who in thy presence bow,
By those, whose King and God art Thou.

Through Baca's arid vale,
As pilgrims when they pass,
The well-springs never fail,
Fresh rain renews the grass;
From strength to strength they journey still,
Till all appear on Zion's hill.

Lord God of Hosts! give ear,
A gracious answer yield;
O God of Jacob! hear;
Behold, O God! our shield;
Look on thine own Anointed One,
And save through thy beloved Son.

Lord! I would rather stand
A keeper at thy gate,
Than on the king's right hand
In tents of worldly state;
One day within thy courts, one day,
Is worth a thousand cast away.

God is a sun of light,
Glory and grace to shed;
God is a shield of might,
To guard the faithful head:
O Lord of Hosts! how happy he,
The man who puts his trust in Thee!