1 The joyful morn, my God, is come, That calls me to thy sacred dome, Thy presence to adore: My feet the summons shall attend, With willing steps thy courts ascend And tread the hallowed floor. 2 With holy joy I hail the day, That warns my thirsting soul away; What transports fill my breast! For, lo! my great Redeemer's power Unfolds the everlasting door, And leads me to his rest! 3 Hither, from earth's remotest end, Lo! the redeemed of God ascend, Their tribute hither bring; Here, crowned with everlasting joy, In hymns of praise their tongues employ, And hail the immortal King. 63. C. M. Watts. Longing for the House of God. 1 Early, my God, without delay, I haste to seek thy face; My thirsty spirit faints away Without thy cheering grace. 2 So pilgrims on the scorching sand, Beneath a burning sky, Long for a cooling stream at hand; And they must drink, or die. 3 Not life itself, with all its joys, Can my best passions move, Or raise so high my cheerful voice, As thy forgiving love. 4 Thus, till my last expiring day, I'll bless my God and King; Thus will I lift my hands to pray, And tune my lips to sing. 64. L. M. Heber. The Worship of Earth and Heaven. 1 Hosanna! Lord, thine angels cry: Hosanna! Lord, we hear reply: Above, beneath us, and around, The dead and living swell the sound. 2 O Father! with protecting care Meet us in this, thy house of prayer; Assembled in Messiah's name, Thy promised blessing here we claim. 3 But, chiefest, in our cleansed breast, Eternal! let thy Spirit rest; And make our secret soul to be A temple pure, and worthy thee. 65. L. M. Watts. Watchfulness and Brotherly Reproof. Ps. 141. 1 My God, accept my early vows, Like morning incense, in thy house; And let my nightly worship rise Sweet as the evening sacrifice. 2 Watch o'er my lips, and guard them, Lord, From every rash and heedless word; Nor let my feet incline to tread The guilty path where sinners lead. 3 O may the righteous, when I stray, Smite and reprove my wandering way; Their gentle words, like ointment shed, Shall never bruise, but cheer, my head. 4 When I behold them prest with grief I'll cry to heaven for their relief; And by my warm petitions prove How much I prize their faithful love. 66. L. M. Watts. The Pleasure of Public Worship. Ps. 84. 1 How pleasant, how divinely fair, O Lord of Hosts, thy dwellings are! With long desire my spirit faints To meet the assemblies of thy saints.