1 Vnto the end, for wine presses, t the children of Core, a Psalme.
2 HOw beloued are thy tabernacles ô Lord of hoastes!
3 my soule coueteth, and fainteth vnto the courtes of our Lord. My hart, and my flesh haue reioyced toward the liuing God.
4 For the sparow also hath found her an house: and the turtledoue a nest for her selfe, where she may lay her young ones. Thine altars ô Lord of hoastes: my King, and my God.
5 Blessed are they, that dwel in thy house ô Lord: for euer and euer they shal praise thee.
6 Blessed is the man, whose helpe is from thee: he hath disposed ascension in his hart,
7 in the vaile of teares, in the place, which he hath appointed.
8 For the lawgeuer shal geue blessing, they shal goe from vertue into vertue: the God of goddes shal be seene in Sion.
9 Lord God of hoastes heare my prayer: receiue with thine eare ô God of Iacob.
10 Behold ô God our protectour: and looke vpon the face of thy Christ.
11 Because better is one day in thy courtes, aboue thousands. I haue chosen to be an abiect in the house of my God: rather then to dwel in the tabernacles of sinners.
12 Because God loueth mercie and truth: our Lord wil geue grace, and glorie.
13 He wil not depriue them of good thinges, that walke in innocencie: ô Lord of hoastes blessed is the man, that hopeth in thee.