The House Of Prayer. - Mark xi.17.

Thy mansion is the Christians 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,     Am 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 prayer.     And if thou make thy temple shine,     Yet self-abased, will I adore;     The gold and silver are not mine,     I give thee what was thine before.