Public Worship.
1 For thee, O God, our constant praise
In Zion waits, thy chosen seat;
Our promised altars there we'll raise,
And all our zealous vows complete.
2 O thou, who to my humble prayer
Didst always bend thy listening ear,
To thee shall all mankind repair,
And at thy gracious throne appear.
3 Our sins, though numberless, in vain
To stop thy flowing mercy try;
For thou wilt cleanse the guilty stain,
And wash away the crimson dye.
4 Blest is the man, who, near thee placed,
Within thy sacred dwelling lives;
Whilst we at humbler distance taste
The vast delight thy worship gives.