John Milton - PSAL. LXXXIV [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

1          How lovely are thy dwellings fair!
         O Lord of Hoasts, how dear
         The pleasant Tabernacles are!
         Where thou do'st dwell so near.

2          My Soul doth long and almost die
        Thy Courts O Lord to see,
        My heart and flesh aloud do crie,
        O living God, for thee.

3          There ev'n the Sparrow freed from wrong
         Hath found a house of rest,
         The Swallow there, to lay her young
         Hath built her brooding nest,
         Ev'n by thy Altars Lord of Hoasts
         They find their safe abode,

         And home they fly from round the Coasts
         Toward thee, My King, my God
4          Happy, who in thy house reside
         Where thee they ever praise,

5          Happy, whose strength in thee doth bide,
         And in their hearts thy waies.

6          They pass through Baca's thirstie Vale,
         That dry and barren ground
         As through a fruitfull watry Dale
         Where Springs and Showrs abound.

7          They journey on from strength to strength
         With joy and gladsom cheer
         Till all before our God at length
        In Sion do appear.

8          Lord God of Hoasts hear now my praier
         O Jacobs God give ear,

9          Thou God our shield look on the face
         Of thy anointed dear.

10          For one day in thy Courts to be
         Is better, and mere blest
         Then in the joyes of Vanity,
         A thousand daies at best.
         I in the temple of my God
         Had rather keep a dore,
        Then dwell in Tents, and rich abode
         With Sin for evermore

11          For God the Lord both Sun and Shield
         Gives grace and glory bright,
         No good from him shall be with-held
         Whose waies are just and right.

12         Lord God of Hoasts that raign 'st on high,
         That man is truly blest
         Who only on thee doth relie.
         And in thee only rest.