[For the end, a Psalm for the sons of Core, concerning the wine-presses.][1]How amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord of hosts![2]My soul longs, and faints for the courts of the Lord: my heart and my flesh have exulted in the living god.[3]Yea, the sparrow has found himself a home, and the turtle-dove a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, even thine altars, O Lord of hosts, my King, and my God.[4]Blessed are they that dwell in thy house: they will praise thee evermore. Pause.[5]Blessed is the man whose help is of thee, O Lord; in his heart he has purposed to go up[6]the valley of weeping, to the place which he has appointed, for there the law-giver will grant blessings.[7]They shall go from strength to strength: the God of gods shall be seen in Sion.[8]O Lord God of hosts, hear my prayer: hearken, O God of Jacob. Pause.[9]Behold, O God our defender, and look upon the face of thine anointed.[10]For one day in thy courts is better than thousands. I would rather be an abject in the house of God, than dwell in the tents of sinners.[11]For the Lord loves mercy and truth: God will give grace and glory: the Lord will not withhold good things from them that walk in innocence.[12]O Lord of hosts, blessed is the man that trusts in thee.
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Author: Sir Lancelot Charles Lee Brenton (1851)
Source: ecmarsh.com