1 O happy souls who pray
Where God appoints to hear!
O happy saints who pay
Their constant service there!
We praise him still;
And happy we;
We love the way
To Zion's hill.
2 No burning heats by day,
Nor blasts of ev'ning air,
Shall take our health away,
3 God is the only Lord,
Our shield and our defence;
With gifts his hand is stored:
We draw our blessings thence.
He will bestow
On Jacob's race,
Peculiar grace,
And glory too.
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