1 How glorious Sion’s courts appear,
the city of our God!
His throne he hath establish'd here,
here fix'd his lov'd abode.
2 Its walls, defended by his grace
no pow’r shall e’er o’erthrow,
salvation is its bulwark sure
against th’ assailing foe.
3 Lift up the everlasting gates,
the doors wide open fling;
enter, ye nations, who obey
the statutes of our King.
4 Here shall ye taste unmingled joys,
and dwell in perfect peace,
ye, who have known Jehovah’s name,
and trusted in his grace.
5 Trust in the Lord, for ever trust,
and banish all your fears;
strength in the Lord Jehovah dwells
eternal as his years.
6 What though the wicked dwell on high,
his arm shall bring them low;
low as the caverns of the grave
their lofty heads shall bow.
7 Along the dust shall then be spread
their tow’rs, that brave the skies:
on them needy’s feet shall tread,
and on their ruins rise.
Source: The Irish Presbyterian Hymnbook #R20a