The festal morn, my God, is come
That calls me to Thy hallowed dome,
Thy presence to adore;
My feet the summons shall attend,
With willing steps Thy courts ascend,
And tread the sacred floor.

And now we greet with raptured eyes,
Fair Zion towering to the skies;
Within her gates we stand:
City of peace! how sweet the sight
When all thy sons in love unite,
A holy, happy band.

Hither from Judah’s utmost end,
The Heaven protected tribes ascend,
Their offerings hither bring;
Here eager to attest their joy,
In hymns of praise their tongues employ
And hail th’immortal King.

May peace forever dwell with thee,
O Salem—thus with bended knee,
To Jacob’s God we pray;
How blest who calls himself thy friend,
Success his labors shall attend,
And safety guard his way.

O may’st thou, free from hostile fear,
Never the voice of tumult hear,
Nor wasting war deplore;
May Plenty nigh thee take her stand,
And in thy courts with lavish hand,
Distribute all her store.

Seat of my friends and brethren, hail!
Ne’er shall my tongue, O Zion, fail
To bless thy loved abode;
Ne’er cease the zeal that in me glows
To seek thy good, whose walls enclose
The mansion of my God.