The earth be­longs un­to the Lord,
And all that it con­tains;
The world that is in­hab­it­ed,
And all that there re­mains.
For the foun­da­tions there­of
He on the seas did lay,
And He hath it es­tab­lish­èd
Upon the floods to stay.

Who is the man that shall as­cend
Into the hill of God?
Or who with­in His ho­ly place
Shall have a firm abode?
Whose hands are clean, whose heart is pure,
And in­to va­ni­ty
Who hath not lift­ed up his soul,
Nor sworn de­ceit­ful­ly.

He from th’Eter­nal shall re­ceive
The bless­ing him up­on,
And right­eous­ness, ev’n from the God
Of his sal­va­tion.
This is the ge­ne­ra­tion
That af­ter Him in­quire,
O Ja­cob, who do seek Thy face
With their whole heart’s de­sire.

Ye gates, lift up your heads on high;
Ye doors, that last for aye,
Be lift­ed up, that so the King
Of glo­ry en­ter may.
But who of glo­ry is the King?
The migh­ty Lord is this;
Ev’n that same Lord, that great in might
And strong in bat­tle is.