Lord of the Worlds Above

Congregational singing
Metropolitan Tabernacle, London
Text: Isaac Watts

Lord of the worlds above,
How pleasant and how fair
The dwellings of Thy love,
Thine earthly temples, are!
To Thine abode
My heart aspires
With warm desires
To see my God.

O happy souls that pray
Where God appoints to hear!
O happy those who pay
Their constant service there!
They praise Thee still;
And happy they
That love the way
To Zion’s hill.

They go from strength to strength
Through this dark vale of tears,
Till each arrives at length,
Till each in Heaven appears;
O glorious seat,
When God our King
Shall thither bring
Our willing feet!

To spend one sacred day
Where God and saints abide,
Affords diviner joy
Than thousand days beside:
Where God resorts,
I love it more
To keep the door
Than shine in courts.

God is our sun and shield,
Our light and our defence;
With gifts His hands are filled,
We draw our blessings thence:
He shall bestow
On Jesus’ race
Distinctive grace
And glory too.

The Lord His people loves:
His hand no good withholds
From those His heart approves,
Renewed and ransomed souls:
Thrice happy he,
O God of hosts,
Whose spirit trusts
Alone in Thee.

(Psalm 84)

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