Come, we that love the Lord,
And let our joys be known;
Join in a song with sweet accord
And thus surround the throne.
Let those refuse to sing
Who never knew our God;
But children of the heav’nly King
May speak their joys abroad.
Then let our songs abound
And every tear be dry;
We’re marching through Immanuel’s ground
To fairer worlds on high.
We’re marching to Zion,
Beautiful, beautiful Zion;
We’re marching upward to Zion,
The beautiful city of God.
– Isaac Watts (1707)