Before Thee, Lord, a peo­ple waits
To praise Thy name in Zi­on’s gates,
To Thee shall vows be paid;
Thou hearer of the sup­pli­ant’s pray­er,
To Thee in need shall all re­pair
To seek Thy gra­cious aid.

How great my tres­pass­es ap­pear;
But Thou from guilt my soul will clear,
And my trans­gress­ions hide.
How blest Thy chos­en, who by grace
Are brought with­in Thy dwell­ing place
That they may there abide.

The good­ness of Thy house, O Lord,
The joys Thy ho­ly courts af­ford,
Our souls shall sa­tis­fy;
By deeds of might, in jus­tice wrought,
The Lord will grant us what we sought,
Our Sav­ior, God Most High.

On Thy sus­tain­ing arm de­pend,
To earth and sea’s re­mot­est end,
All men in ev­ery age;
Thy strength es­tab­lish­es the hills,
Thy word the roar­ing bil­lows stills,
And calms the peo­ples’ rage.

The tribes of earth’s re­mot­est lands
Behold the to­kens of Thy hands
And bow in god­ly fear;
The east, where beams the morn­ing light,
The west, in ev­en­ing glo­ries bright,
Rejoice, for Thou art near.