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The Holy Catholic Church.
No tears from any eyes Drop in that holy quire ; But Death itself there dies, And sighs themselves expire. O happy place ! When shall I be, My God, with Thee, To see Thy face ?
There should temptations cease, My frailties there should end ; There should I rest in peace In the arms of my best Friend, O happy place ! When shall I be, My God, with Thee,, To see Thy face ?
Jerusalem on high My song and City is, My home whene'er I die, The centre of my bliss : O happy place ! When shall I be, My God, with Thee, To see Thy face ?
Thy walls, sweet city, thine, With pearls are garnished ; Thy gates with praises shine. Thy streets with gold are spread \ O happy place! When shall I be, My God, with Thee, To see Thy face ? |
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