Classic Poem

How lovely, how beloved is Thine abode,
Lord of the hosts of heaven, Thou King of saints!
My heart cries out for Thee the living God,
And for Thy courts my spirit longs and faints.

Beneath Thine altars on the far hill-side
The sparrow and the swallow build their nest:
My Father, bid me come to Thee and hide
A child's deep yearnings in a Parent's breast.

Blessèd are they who in Thy temple dwell
And utter forth Thy praises day and night;
There drinking from Thy love's exhaustless well
Pure crystal draughts of comfort and delight.

Enough: let earth its richest feast prepare,
Thy presence and Thy smile are more than all,
And more one day within Thy house of prayer
Than years of mirth in pleasure's festive hall.

In dark and danger sun and shield art Thou,
And grace and glory spring from Thee alone,
The Refuge of Thy pilgrim people now,
Their Home for ever gather'd round Thy throne.