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And sweet it is, in sacred walls,
 Surrounded by our friends to stand,
The selfish love that oft enthralls
 To cast, and join an holy band;
And hear then- choral voices raise,
Along with ours, the hymn of praise.

To hear the preacher's solemn voice,
 Inspiring hopes and dreams of heaven,
And call his people to rejoice,
 And hail the great salvation given;
Or in a gentler, humbler tone,
Their errors and their sins to own.

For sweet it is in prayer to bow,
 Where every head is humbly bent,
And thousand hearts, in reverence low,
 Then- mingled vows to heaven have sent;
Forgetful of each meaner aim,
Kindling our universal flame.

In sacred fane or loneliest spot,
 O God! alike thy presence dwells;
For space or time to Thee is not;
 In public haunts, or hermit cells,
To Thee the good, the pure, the wise,
Send everywhere a sacrifice!