How beautiful, how rich and fair
The portals of Your temple are
To spend one day within Your courts
Surpasses even thousands.
There sparrow and the swallow nest
Around Your altar finding rest
And me, in robes, I do not own,
Find grace and affirmation.
For there a fountain flows,
Poured on my thirsty soul
Just like the autumn rain
Falls on a desert place.
You traced Your finger in this clay
And my accusers melt away
The words You speak when we're alone
My heart and will compelling.
These loafs and fishes that we bring
Our simple childlike offering
From which a banquet You prepare
Within Your courts rejoicing.
Writer(s): Robin Mark
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