The Church. Ps. 100. 4; 122
I. Watts C.M.
How did my heart rejoice to hear
My friends devoutly say,
“In Zion let us all appear,
And keep the solemn day”!
I love her gates; I love the road;
The church, adorned with grace,
Stands like a palace built for God
To show his milder face.
Up to her courts, with joys unknown,
The holy tribes repair;
The Son of David holds his throne,
And sits in judgment there.
He hears our praises and complaints,
And, while his awful voice
Divides the sinners from the saints,
We tremble and rejoice.
Peace be within this sacred place,
And joy a constant guest;
With holy gifts and heavenly grace,
Be her attendants blest.
My soul shall pray for Zion still,
While life or breath remains;
There my best friends, my kindred dwell;
There God my Saviour reigns.