PSALM XLVIII.

George Burgess

The joy of earth, from far descried,
Is Sion's beauteous height,
Where gleams along her northern side
Thy fortress, King of might!

The Lord is known within her tow'rs,
Of old their bulwark fast:
Kings, like the storm, led on their pow'rs,
And, like the storm, they pass'd.

They saw, they wonder'd, fear'd and fled:
So travailing mothers wail;
So burst the sails for Tarshish spread,
Beneath thine eastern gale.

Our eyes have seen, what once was told,
Of God's embattled wall:
The Lord of Hosts has there his hold,
And not a stone shall fall.

O God, we think thy goodness o'er
Within thy temple dear;
And, like thy name, our praise would soar,
Till earth's wide bounds shall hear.

A sceptre just thy hand sustains;
A shield thy judgments bring:
Let Sion lift her loudest strains,
Let Judah's maidens sing!

Go round the tow'rs on Sion's mount,
Mark how they greet the sun;
Her palace portals note and count,
Her bulwarks, one by one;

And tell to ev'ry future day,
So God, our God, defends;
So guides his people's peaceful way,
Till death in vict'ry ends.