Psalms 84
84
psalm LXXXIV (1–7).
Tuin: Harington
1Hoo loesome, Lord o’ Hosts, to me
Appears Thy Hoose o’ Prayer,
And hoo delichtsome sune to be
Wi’ them that loe Thee there.
2My saul wi’ langin’ wears awa
To win Thy courts to see;
O Livin’ God, my hert and a’
That’s in me cries for Thee.
3The very sparras there hae socht
A biggin’ whaur to bide;
And e’en the swallow there has bocht
A neuk her nest to hide —
A neuk in Thine ain altar‐stane,
Her birds to bield fu’ snod —
O Lord o’ Hosts, that art alane,
My Sov’ran and my God.
4Blythe they that bide Thy Hoose athin,
And lilt Thy praises aye;
5Blythe they their strength in Thee that fin’
Whause herts loe weel Thy wey.
6As Baca’s dale they wars’le throwe,
They mak’ a wa’l therein;
The rain, that fills the haughs sae fu’,
Skails blessins frae abune.
7And sae frae strength to strength they win
Alang the lichtsome road,
Until in Zion ilka ane,
Stands face to face wi’ God.
Metrical Psalms in Braid Scots, translated by Rev. T. T. Alexander published in 1928. This text is maintained by MissionAssist.