Hymn 237
Pleasant are thy courts above
‘Bugbe Rẹ ti l’ẹwa to!
- Pleasant are thy courts above
In the land of light and love;
Pleasant are Thy courts below
In this land of sin and woe:
Oh, my spirit longs and faints
For the converse of Thy saints,
For the brightness of Thy face,
For Thy fullness, God of grace. - Happy birds that sing and fly
Round Thy altars, O Most High;
Happier souls that find a rest
In a heavenly Father's breast:
Like the wandering dove, that found
No repose on earth around,
They can to their ark repair,
And enjoy it ever there. - Happy souls! their praises flow
Even in this vale of woe;
Waters in the desert rise,
Manna feeds them from the skies;
On they go from strength to strength,
Till they reach Thy throne at length,
At Thy feet adoring fall,
Who hast led them safe through all. - Lord, be mine this prize to win,
Guide me through a world of sin,
Keep me by Thy saving grace,
Give me at Thy side a place;
Sun and Shield alike Thou art,
Guide and guard my erring heart;
Grace and glory flow from Thee;
Shower, O shower then, Lord, on me. Amin.