Classic Poem

HYMN XXXV.

H A ppy are they our Lord has chose
In his blest courts to dwell;
His praises still their thoughts employ,
Their tongues his glory tell.

There he his loveliness makes known
To all who love his name;
To them he is a glorious crown,
And beauteous diadem.

With a celestial banquet there
His table's richly spread;
The wine's the tincture of his veins,
His body is the bread.

To entertain his happy friends,
He oft repeats his call;
Pours fragrant oil upon their heads,
Gives robes to clothe 'em all.

Nay, every contrite mind to him
A holy temple proves:
For humble souls are his delight,
And he dwells where he loves.

He at the door of every heart
Does friendly calls renew;
" Open to me, and you shall sup
" With me, and I with you.

And will the high and lofty one
Vouchsafe to dwell with men?
Open, eternal doors, and let
The king of glory in.

This entertainment, Lord, of thine,
So gen'rous and so free,
Cost many a pang, and many a groan,
And many a wound to thee.

Eternal praise to thy great name,
By all the host of heaven,
By every nation, every tongue,
And every heart be given.