| 1 | How lovely is Thy dwelling-place! |
| | Within Thy courts I long to be; |
| | Thy presence, Lord, my spirit craves, |
| | For this my heart cries out to Thee. |
| 2 | At Thy burnt-offering altar, Lord, |
| | And at Thine incense altar blest, |
| | Even the sparrow finds a home, |
| | And swallow there prepares her nest. |
| 3 | Men, as the sparrow, frail and small, |
| | When living in Thy house find rest, |
| | Relying on the altar’s blood, |
| | Enjoying there the incense blest. |
| 4 | How blessed are those men indeed! |
| | Trusting in Thee they are made strong; |
| | Highways to Zion in their hearts, |
| | The way they care not, rough or long. |
| 5 | Passing the weeping valley they |
| | Make it a place of springing wells; |
| | The rain with blessings covers it |
| | And in the way God’s mercy tells. |
| 6 | From strength to strength they go, and all |
| | Before the Lord in Zion meet; |
| | Thus ever seeking Thine own self, |
| | They need Thy care and grace replete. |
| 7 | Better a day within Thy courts |
| | Than days a thousand I would tell; |
| | I’d rather at Thy threshold stand |
| | Than in the wicked’s tents to dwell. |
| 8 | Thou art a sun, Thou art a shield, |
| | Thou grace and glory wilt supply; |
| | Thy presence and Thy very self |
| | My need in fulness satisfy. |
| 9 | Not one good thing wilt Thou withhold |
| | From those who walk in uprightness; |
| | Bless’d is the man that trusts in Thee |
| | With grace and glory measureless. |
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