The Stennetts of England - Joseph Stennett - Hymn Poems

Happy are they our Lord has chose

Happy are they our Lord has chose
   In his blest courts to dwell;
His praises still their thoughts employ,
   Their tongues his glory tell.

There he his loveliness makes known
   To all who love his name;
To them he is a glorious crown,
   And beauteous diadem.

With a celestial banquet there
   His table's richly spread;
The wine's the tincture of his veins,
   His body is the bread.

To entertain his happy friends,
   He oft repeats his call;
Pours fragrant oil upon their heads,
   Gives robes to clothe 'em all.

Nay, every contrite mind to hint
   A holy temple proves:
For humble souls are his delight,
   And he dwells where he loves.

He at the door of every heart
   Does friendly calls renew;
Open to me, and you shall sup
   With me, and I with you.

And will the high and lofty one
   Vouchsafe me to dwell with men?
Open, eternal doors, and let
   The king of glory in.

This entertainment, Lord, of thine,
   So gen'rous and so free,
Cost many a pang, and many a groan,
   And many a wound to thee.

Eternal praise to thy great name,
   By all the host of heaven,
By every nation, every tongue,
   And every heart be given.

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