Psal. LXXXIV.

How lovely are thy dwellings fair!     O Lord of Hoasts, how dear     The pleasant Tabernacles are!     Where thou do'st dwell so near.     My Soul doth long and almost die     Thy Courts O Lord to see,     My heart and flesh aloud do crie,     O living God, for thee.     There ev'n the Sparrow freed from wrong     Hath found a house of rest,     The Swallow there, to lay her young     Hath built her brooding nest,     Ev'n by thy Altars Lord of Hoasts     They find their safe abode,     And home they fly from round the Coasts     Toward thee, My King, my God     Happy, who in thy house reside     Where thee they ever praise,     Happy, whose strength in thee doth bide,     And in their hearts thy waies.     They pass through Baca's thirstie Vale,     That dry and barren ground     As through a fruitfull watry Dale     Where Springs and Showrs abound.     They journey on from strength to strength     With joy and gladsom cheer     Till all before our God at length     In Sion do appear.     Lord God of Hoasts hear now my praier     O Jacobs God give ear,     Thou God our shield look on the face     Of thy anointed dear.     For one day in thy Courts to be     Is better, and mere blest     Then in the joyes of Vanity,     A thousand daies at best.     I in the temple of my God     Had rather keep a dore,     Then dwell in Tents, and rich abode     With Sin for evermore     For God the Lord both Sun and Shield     Gives grace and glory bright,     No good from him shall be with-held     Whose waies are just and right.     Lord God of Hoasts that raign 'st on high,     That man is truly blest     Who only on thee doth relie.     And in thee only rest.