God's voice doth make the hinds to calve, it makes the forest bare: And in his temple ev'ry one his glory doth declare.
We of thy loving-kindness thought, Lord, in thy temple still.
The habitation of thy house, Lord, I have loved well; Yea, in that place I do delight where doth thine honour dwell.
That I thy power may behold, and brightness of thy face, As I have seen thee heretofore within thy holy place.