You may sing of the beauty of mountain and dale,
Of the silvery streamlet and flowers of the vale;
But the place most delightful this earth can afford
Is the place of devotion—the house of the Lord.
You may boast of the sweetness of day's early dawn,
Of the skies' softening graces where day is just gone;
But there's no other season or time can compare
With the house of devotion—the season of prayer.
You may value the friendship of youth and of age,
And select for your comrades the noble and sage;
But the friends that most cheer me on life's rugged road
Are the friends of my Master—the children of God.
You may talk of your prospects of fame or of wealth,
And the hopes that oft flatter the fav'rites of health;
But the hope of bright glory—of heavenly bliss,
Take away ev'ry other, and give me but this.
Ever hail, blessed temple, abode of my Lord!
I will turn to thee often, to hear from thy word;
I will walk to the altar with those that I love,
And delight in the prospect revealed from above.