Classic Poem

HYMN XXVII.

Lord, we approach thy throne,
To thee thank-offerings bring;
For in thy temple every one
Should of thy glory sing.

There thou art pleas'd to dwell,
And there thy beauty shines;
There to thy fav'rites thou dost tell
Thy great, thy good designs.

Thy table they draw near,
To which thy calls invite;
They find the best of dainties there,
And there to dwell delight.

Thy flesh is meat indeed,
Thy blood the richest wine;
How blest are they who often feed
On this repast of thine!

While by our sins to thee
We fill'd a bitter cup,
Thou mad'st this noble treat, that we
Might at thy table sup.

May joy, with humble fear,
A true devotion raise
In all who are assembled here,
To celebrate thy praise.

So while thy courts resound
With songs, we shall confess
That no such pleasure's to be found
I'th' tents of wickedness.

And if such feasts as this
Yield so much sweet below,
What joys swim in those floods of bliss,
Which at thy right hand flow?