J. Morison


COME, let us to the Lord our God

With contrite hearts return;

Our God is gracious, nor will leave

The desolate to mourn.


His voice commands the tempest forth,

And stills the stormy wave;

And, though His arm be strong to smite

’Tis also strong to save.


Long hath the night of sorrow reigned;

The dawn shall bring us light;

God shall appear, and we shall rise

With gladness in His sight.


Our hearts, if God we seek to know,

Shall know Him, and rejoice;

His coming like the morn shall be,

Like morning songs His voice.


As dew upon the tender herb,

Diffusing fragrance round;

As showers that usher in the spring,

And cheer the thirsty ground;


So shall His presence bless our souls,

And shed a joyful light;

That hallowed morn shall chase away

The sorrows of the night.


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