William Cowper (1731–1800)

Thy mansion is the christian’s heart,

O Lord, thy dwelling place secure!

Bid the unruly throng depart,

And leave the consecrated door.

Devoted as it is to thee,

A thievish swarm frequents the place;

They steal away my joys from me,

And rob my Saviour of his praise.

There too a sharp designing trade

Sin, Satan, and the world maintain;

Nor cease to press me, and persuade,

To part with ease and purchase pain.

I know them, and I hate their din,

And weary of the bustling crowd;

But while their voice is heard within,

I cannot serve thee as I would.

Oh! for the joy thy presence gives,

What peace shall reign when thou art here!

Thy presence makes this den of thieves,

A calm delightful house of pray’r.

And if thou make thy temple shine,

Yet self-abas’d, will I adore;

The gold and silver are not mine,

I give thee what was thine before.