Poetry Saturday—Come, Ye That Love The Lord

Come, ye that love the Lord,
  And let your joys be known;
Join in a song with sweet accord
  While we surround the throne.
The sorrow of the mind
  Be banish’d from the place; 
Religion never was design’d
  To make our pleasures less.
Let those refuse to sing
  Who never knew our God;
But servants of the heavenly King
  May speak their joys abroad.
The God that rules on high,
  That all the earth surveys,
That rides upon the stormy sky,
  And calms the roaring seas:
This awful God of ours,
  Our Father and our Love;
He will 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.
Yes! 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 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. —Isaac Watts

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