Hymn written by Isaac Watts |
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Come, we that love the Lord,
And let our joys be known;
Join in a song with sweet accord,
And thus surround the throne.
The sorrows of the mind
Be banished from the place!
Religion never was designed
To make our pleasures less.
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Let those refuse to sing
That never knew our God,
But fav'rites of the heavenly King
May speak their joys abroad.
The God that rules on high,
And thunders when He please,
That rides upon the stormy sky,
And manages the seas; –
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This awful God is ours,
Our Father and our love;
He shall send down His heavenly powers
To carry us above.
There shall we see His face,
And never, never sin;
There from the rivers of His grace
Drink endless pleasures in.
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The hill of Zion yields
A thousand sacred sweets,
Before we reach the heavenly fields,
Or walk the golden streets.
Then let our songs abound,
And every tear be dry!
We're marching through Immanuel's ground
To fairer worlds on high.
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