1 The praise of Sion waits for thee,
My God; and praise becomes thy house;
There shall thy saints thy glory see,
And there perform their public vows.
2 O thou, whose mercy bends the skies
To save when humble sinners pray,
All lands to thee shall lift their eyes
And islands of the northern sea.
3 Against my will my sins prevail,
But grace shall purge away their stain;
The blood of Christ will never fail
To wash my garments white again.
4 Blest is the man whom thou shalt choose,
And give him kind access to thee,
Give him a place within thy house,
To taste thy love divinely free.
5 Let Babel fear when Sion prays;
Babel, prepare for long distress
When Sion's God himself arrays
In terror, and in righteousness.
6 With dreadful glory God fulfils
What his afflicted saints request;
And with almighty wrath reveals
His love to give his churches rest.
7 Then shall the flocking nations run
To Sion's hill, and own their Lord;
The rising and the setting sun
Shall see their Saviour's name ador'd.