Words: Isaac Watts Music: "Irish" by unknown How glorious Sion's courts appear, The city of our God! His throne He hath established here Here fixed His loved abode. Its wall, defended by His grace No power shall e'er o'erthrow, Salvation is its bulwark sure Against th' assailing foe. Lift up the everlasting gates, The doors wide open fling; Enter, ye nations, who obey The statutes of our King. Here shall ye taste unmingled joys, And dwell in perfect peace, Ye, who have known Jehovah's Name, And trusted in His grace. Trust in the Lord, forever trust, And banish all your fears; Strength in the Lord Jehovah dwells Eternal as His years. What though the wicked dwell on high, His arm shall bring them low; Low as the caverns of the grave Their lofty heads shall bow. Along the dust shall then be spread Their towers, that brave the skies: On them the needy's feet shall tread, And on their ruins rise.
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