Who, O Lord, with Thee abid­ing,
In Thy house shall be Thy guest?
Who, his feet to Zi­on turn­ing,
In Thy ho­ly hill shall rest?
He that ev­er walks up­right­ly,
Does the right with­out a fear,
When he speaks, he speaks not light­ly,
But with truth and love sin­cere.

He that slan­ders not his bro­ther,
Does not ev­il to a friend;
To re­proach­es of ano­ther
He re­fuses to at­tend.
Wicked men win not his fa­vor,
But the good who fear the Lord;
From his vow he will not wa­ver,
Though it bring him sad re­ward.

Freely to the needy lend­ing,
No ex­cess he asks again;
And the in­no­cent be­friend­ing,
He de­sires not praise of men.
Doing this, and ev­il spurn­ing,
He shall ne­ver­more be moved;
This the man with Thee so­journ­ing,
This the man by Thee ap­proved.