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How pleasant, how divinely fair,

O Lord of hosts, thy dwellings are!

With strong desire my spirit faints

To meet the assemblies of thy saints.


My flesh would rest in thine abode,

My panting heart cries out for God;

My God! my King! why should I be

So far from all my joys and thee!


The sparrow chooses where to rest,

And for her young provides her nest;

But will my God to sparrows grant

That pleasure which his children want?


Blest are the saints that sit on high,

Around thy throne of majesty;

Thy brightest glories shine above,

And all their work is praise and love.


Blest are the souls that find a place

Within the temple of thy grace:

Here they behold thy gentler rays,

And seek thy face, and learn thy praise.


Blest are the men whose hearts are set

To find the way to Zion's gate

God is their strength, and through the road

They lean upon their helper, God.


Cheerful they walk with growing strength,

Till all shall meet in heaven at length,

Till all before thy face appear,

And join in nobler worship there.

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