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

That never knew our God;

But favorites of the heav'nly 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;]

This aweful God is ours,

Our Father and our Love;

He shall 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.

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 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.