Alas! how from thy lovely dwellings I,
Long banish'd do the happy birds envy;
Which, chusing thy high altars for their nest,
On rafters of thy tabernacle rest!
Here dwells the sparrow of a chirping tongue,
And here the swallow lays her tender young:
Faint sacrilege! they seize the sacred spot,
And seem to glory o'er my absent lot.
Yet sure I have more special right to thee
Than all the brutal hosts of earth and sea;
That Sov'reign, at whose government they bow,
Is wholly mine by his eternal vow;
My King to rule my heart, and quell my foes,
My God t' extract my well from present woes,
And crown with endless glory at the close.