PSAL. LXXXVII.

Among the holy Mountains high
Is his foundation fast,
There Seated in his Sanctuary,
His Temple there is plac't.

2 Sions fair Gates the Lord loves more [ 5 ]
Then all the dwellings faire
Of Jacobs Land, though there be store,
And all within his care.

3 City of God, most glorious things
Of thee abroad are spoke; [ 10 ]

4 I mention Egypt, where proud Kings
Did our forefathers yoke,
I mention Babel to my friends,
Philistia full of scorn,
And Tyre with Ethiops utmost ends, [ 15 ]
Lo this man there was born:

5 But twise that praise shall in our ear
Be said of Sion last
This and this man was born in her,
High God shall fix her fast. [ 20 ]

6 The Lord shall write it in a Scrowle
That ne're shall be out-worn
When he the Nations doth enrowle
That this man there was born.

7 Both they who sing and they who dance [ 25 ]
With sacred Songs are there,
In thee fresh brooks, and soft streams glance
And all my fountains clear.