To the chiefe musition vpon Gittith, a psalme of the sonnes of Corach. O how amiable are thy dwellinges: thou God of hoastes?

My soule hath a desire and a longing to enter into the courtes of God: my heart and my flesh leapeth with ioy for to go to the liuing Lorde.

Yea the sparowe hath founde her an house, and the swallowe a nest: where she may lay her young: euen thy aulters O God of hoastes, my king & my Lord.

Blessed are they that dwell in thy house: they wyll be alway praysyng thee. Selah.

Blessed is that man whose strength is in thee: thy wayes are in their heart.

They iourneying through the vale of teares: (yea when euery cesterne at their name is filled with water) do accept it for a fayre pleasaunt well.

They wyl set forward from a stoute courage to a stoute courage: that the God of Gods may be seene of them in Sion.

O God Lorde of hoastes heare my prayer: geue eare O God of Iacob. Selah.

Beholde O Lorde our shielde: and loke vpon the face of thyne annointed.

For one day in thy courtes, is better then a thousande els where: I had rather be a doore keper in the house of my God, then to dwell in large tabernacles of vngodlynes.

For God the Lorde is a sunne and a shielde: God geueth grace and worship, he withholdeth no good thyng from them that liue in any perfection.

O God of hoastes: blessed is the man that putteth his trust in thee.