How Lovely Are Thy Tents, O Lord

How love­ly are Thy tents

O Lord!

Where’er Thou choos­est to re­cord

Thy name

or place Thy house of pray­er;

My soul out­flies the an­gel choir

And faints

o’er­pow­ered with strong de­sire

To meet Thy spe­cial pre­sence there.

My heart and flesh cry out for God;

There would I fix my soul’s ab­ode

As birds that in the al­tars nest;

There would I all my young ones bring

An of­fer­ing to my God and king

And in Thy courts for ev­er rest.

Happy the men to whom ’tis giv­en

To dwell with­in that gate of Heav­en

And in Thy house re­cord Thy praise;

Whose strength and con­fi­dence Thou art

Who feel Thee

Sav­ior

in their heart

The Way

the Truth

the Life of grace:

Who

pass­ing through the mourn­ful vale

Drink com­fort from the liv­ing well

That flows re­plen­ished from ab­ove;

From strength to strength ad­vanc­ing here

Till all be­fore their God ap­pear

And each re­ceives the crown of love.

Better a day Thy courts with­in

Than thou­sands in the tents of sin;

How base the nob­lest plea­sure there!

How great the weak­est child of Thine!

His mean­est task is all di­vine

And kings and priests Thy serv­ants are.

The Lord pro­tects and cheers His own

Their light and strength

their shield and sun;

He shall both grace and glo­ry give;

Unlimited His boun­te­ous grant;

No real good they e’er shall want;

All

all is theirs

who right­eous live.

O Lord of hosts

how blest is he

Who stead­fast­ly be­lieves in Thee!

He all Thy pro­mis­es shall gain;

The soul that on Thy love is cast

Thy per­fect love on earth shall taste

And soon with Thee in glo­ry reign.