How love­ly, Lord of Hosts, to me
The ta­ber­na­cles of Thy grace;
O how I long, yea, faint to see
Thy hal­lowed courts, Thy dwell­ing place;
For Thee my heart and spir­it sigh,
For Thee, O liv­ing God, I cry.

The spar­row has her place of rest;
The swal­low, through Thy kind­ly care,
Has found where she may build her nest
And brood her young in safe­ty there;
Thy al­tars as my rest I sing,
O Lord of Hosts, my God, my king.

Blest they who in Thy house abide,
They still to Thee shall ren­der praise;
Blest they who in Thy strength con­fide,
And in whose hearts are Zi­on’s ways;
Though pass­ing through the vale of tears,
Like springs of joy Thy grace ap­pears.

Advancing still from strength to strength,
They on­ward go where saints have trod,
Till ev­ery one ap­pears at length
In Zi­on’s courts be­fore his God;
Jehovah, God of Hosts, give ear,
Our fa­thers’ God, in mer­cy hear.

Upon us look, O God, our shield,
The face of Thy an­oint­ed see;
A thou­sand oth­er days can yield
No glad­ness like one day with Thee;
Though on­ly at Thy door I wait,
No tents of sin give joy so great.

Jehovah, God our shield and sun,
Will grace and glo­ry sure­ly give;
No good will He with­hold from one
Who in His sight shall right­ly live;
O Lord of Hosts, most blest is he
Who puts his stead­fast trust in Thee.