William Cowper 8,8,8,8 The house of prayer. Thy mansion is the christian's heart, O LORD, thy dwelling-place secure! Bid the unruly throng depart, And leave the consecrated door. Devoted as it is to thee, A thievish swarm frequents the place; They steal away my joys from me, And rob my Savior of his praise. There too a sharp designing trade Sin, Satan, and the world, maintain; Nor cease to press me, and persuade, To part with ease and purchase pain. I know them, and I hate their din, Am weary of the bustling crowd; But while their voice is heard within, I cannot serve thee as I would. O! for the joy thy presence gives, What peace shall reign when thou art here! Thy presence makes this den of thieves, A calm delightful house of prayer. And if thou make thy temple thine, Yet, self-abased, will I adore; The gold and silver are not mine, I give thee what was thine before. |