Come, ye who love the Lord!

And let your joys be known;

Join in a song with sweet accord,

And thus surround His throne.

The sorrows of the mind

Be banished from this place!

Religion never was designed

To make our pleasures less.

The sons of God have found

That heaven begins below:

Celestial fruits, on earthly ground,

From faith and hope may grow.

Then let our sorrows cease,

And every tear be dry;

We’re travelling through the paths of peace

To fairer worlds on high.