The poem
Among the holy Mountains high Is his foundation fast, There Seated in his Sanctuary, His Temple there is plac't. Sions fair Gates the Lord loves more Then all the dwellings faire Of Jacobs Land, though there be store, And all within his care. City of God, most glorious things Of thee abroad are spoke; I mention Egypt, where proud Kings Did our forefathers yoke, I mention Babel to my friends, Philistia full of scorn, And Tyre with Ethiops utmost ends, Lo this man there was born: But twise that praise shall in our ear Be said of Sion last This and this man was born in her, High God shall fix her fast. The Lord shall write it in a Scrowle That ne're shall be out-worn When he the Nations doth enrowle That this man there was born. Both they who sing, and they who dance With sacred Songs are there, In thee fresh brooks, and soft streams glance And all my fountains clear.