Isaac Watts, 1674-1748
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.
2. There the great Monarch of the skies
3. With his rich gifts the heav'nly Dove
4. There, mighty God, thy words declare
5. 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?
6. The sparrow builds herself a nest,
7. To sit one day beneath thine eye,
8. Lord, at thy threshold I would wait
9. 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.
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