Come, we that love the Lord,
And let our joys be known;
Join in a song with sweet accord,
And thus surround the throne.


2 The sorrows of the mind
Be banished from the place;
Religion never was designed
To make our pleasures less.

3 Let those refuse to sing
That never knew our God;
But children of the heavenly King
May speak their joys abroad.

4 The hill of Zion yields
A thousand sacred sweets
Before we reach the heavenly fields,
Or walk the golden streets.

5 There shall we see His face,
And never, never sin;
There form the rivers of His grace
Drink endless pleasures in.

6 Then let our songs abound,
And every tear be dry;
We’re marching through Immanuel’s ground
To fairer worlds on high.