Psal. LXXXVII

Among the holy Mountains high     Is his foundation fast,     There Seated in his Sanctuary,     His Temple there is plac't.     Sions fair Gates the Lord loves more     Then all the dwellings faire     Of Jacobs Land, though there be store,     And all within his care.     City of God, most glorious things     Of thee abroad are spoke;     I mention Egypt, where proud Kings     Did our forefathers yoke,     I mention Babel to my friends,     Philistia full of scorn,     And Tyre with Ethiops utmost ends,     Lo this man there was born:     But twise that praise shall in our ear     Be said of Sion last     This and this man was born in her,     High God shall fix her fast.     The Lord shall write it in a Scrowle     That ne're shall be out-worn     When he the Nations doth enrowle     That this man there was born.     Both they who sing, and they who dance     With sacred Songs are there,     In thee fresh brooks, and soft streams glance     And all my fountains clear.