Come, Ye That Love The Lord,
And Let Your Joys Be Known,
Join In A Song With Sweet Accord,
Join In A Song With Sweet Accord,
And Thus Surround The Throne,
And Thus Surround The Throne.

We’re Marching To Zion,
Beautiful, Beautiful Zion ;
We’re Marching Upward To Zion,
The Beautiful City Of God.

Let Those Refuse To Sing
Who Never Knew Our God ;
But Children Of The Heavenly King,
Must Speak Their Joys Abroad.

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.