Psalm 84

O Lord of hoasts how lovely fair,
Thy Tabernacles be!
My longing soul is nigh despair,
Thy sacred courts to see.
O living God, my flesh, my heart
For thee cry out amain:
Behold the sparrow, for her part,
Blest house-room doth obtain.
The swallow builds her nests full close,
Where shee her young may bring:
Even to thine Altars, Lord of hoasts,
My God and glorious King.
Thy house-hold servants happy be,
They still will give thee praise:
The man is blest whose strēgth's in thee,
Who minds thy servants wayes.
Which make a Well of Baca-plain,
In passing to and fro:
The Pools are also fill'd with rain;
From strength to strength they go,
To Sion hill they all repair,
Before Jehovah there:
Lord God of hoasts, ô hear my pray'r,
O Jacobs God give ear.
O look on thine anointeds face,
O Lord our shield behold:
For in thy Courts a days short space
Excells a thousand-fold.
In thy fair Temple, I profess,
I'd rather keep a dore,
Then in the tents of wickedness
Have dwelling evermore.
For God the Lord to Israel is
A constant Sun and Shield:
He will vouchsafe his grace to his,
And glory freely yield.
From them that walk in upright way,
No good thing hold will he:
Lord God of hoasts how blest are they,
That put their trust in thee?