Come, we that love the Lord
Author: Isaac Watts
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.
Let those refuse to sing,
Who never knew our God;
But favorites of the heavenly King,
May speak their joys abroad.
The God that rules on high,
And thunders when He please,
Who rides upon the stormy sky,
And manages the seas.
This awful God is ours,
Our Father and our Love;
He will send down his heav'nly powers,
To carry us above.
There we shall see His face,
And never, never sin!
There, from the rivers of His grace,
Drink endless pleasures in.
Yea, and before we rise,
To that immortal state,
The thoughts of such amazing bliss,
Should constant joys create.
The men of grace have found,
Glory begun below.
Celestial fruits on earthly ground
From faith and hope may grow.
The hill of Zion yields
A thousand sacred sweets
Before we reach the heav'nly 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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