How lovely is Thy dwelling place,
O Lord of hosts to me!
The tabernacles of Thy grace
How pleasant, Lord, they be!

My thirsty soul longs ardently,
Yes, faints Thy courts to see;
My very heart and flesh cry out,
O living God, for Thee.

Behold the sparrow findeth out
A house wherein to rest;
The swallow also, for herself,
Provided hath a nest.

Ev’n Thine own altars, where she safe
Her young ones forth may bring,
O Thou, almighty Lord of hosts,
Who art my God and King.

Blest are they in Thy house that dwell,
They ever give Thee praise,
Blest is the man whose strength Thou art,
In whose heart are Thy ways.

Words: Scot­tish Psal­ter, 1650
Music: “McKee,” from an Af­ri­can-Amer­i­can spir­it­u­al, ar­ranged by Har­ry T. Bur­leigh (1866-1949)