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Come, we that love the Lord,
And let our joys be known;
Join in a song with sweet ac-cord
And thus sur-round the throne.
Let those re-fuse to sing
Who ne-ver knew our God;
But chil-dren of the heaven-ly King
May speak their joys a-broad.
The men of grace have found
Glo-ry be-gun be-low;
Ce-les-tial fruits on earth-ly ground
From faith and hope may grow.
The hill of Zi-on yields
A thou-sand sa-cred sweets
Be-fore we reach the heaven-ly fields,
Or walk the gold-en streets.
Then let our songs a-bound
And ev-ery tear be dry;
We're marching through Em-man-uel's ground,
To fair-er worlds on high.
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