|
[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.
|