My soul, how love­ly is the place
To which thy God re­sorts!
’Tis Heav’n to see His smil­ing face,
Though in His earth­ly courts.

There the great Mon­arch of the skies
His sav­ing pow­er dis­plays,
And light breaks in up­on our eyes
With kind and quick­en­ing rays.

With His rich gifts the heav’n­ly Dove
Descends and fills the place,
While Christ re­veals His won­drous love,
And sheds abroad His grace.

There, migh­ty God, Thy words de­clare
The se­crets of Thy will;
And still we seek Thy mer­cy there,
And sing Thy prais­es still.

My heart and flesh cry out for Thee,
While far from Thine ab­ode;
When shall I tread Thy courts, and see
My Sav­ior and my God?

The spar­row builds her­self a nest,
And suf­fers no remove;
O make me, like the spar­rows, blest,
To dwell but where I love.

To sit one day be­neath Thine eye,
And hear Thy gra­cious voice,
Exceeds a whole eter­ni­ty
Employed in car­nal joys.

Lord, at Thy thresh­old I would wait
While Je­sus is with­in,
Rather than fill a throne of state,
Or live in tents of sin.

Could I com­mand the spa­cious land,
And the more bound­less sea,
For one blest hour at Thy right hand
I’d give them both away.