How honoured, how dear, that sacred abode,
Where Christians draw near their Father and God I
'Mid worldly commotion, my wearied soul faints
For the house of devotion, the home of Thy saints.
The birds have their home, they fix on their nest;
Wherever they roam, they turn to their rest:
From them fondly learning, my soul would take wing;
To Thee so returning, my God and my King.
O happy the choirs who praise Thee above!
What joy tunes their lyres! their worship is love.
Yet safe in Thy keeping and happy they be
In this world of weeping, whose strength is in Thee.
Though rugged their way, they drink, as they go,
Of springs that convey new life as they flow:
The God they rely on, their strength shall renew,
Till each, brought to Zion, His glory shall view.
Thou Hearer of prayer, still grant me a place
Where Christians repair to the courts of Thy grace:
More blest, beyond measure, one day so employed,
Than years of vain pleasure by worldlings enjoyed.
The Lord is a Sun, the Lord is a sealed.
What grace has begun, with glory is Him their trust.
He hears the distressed, He succours the just:
And they shall be blessed who make