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Tuning: E A D G B E
Now sFing we, now rejCoice, Now Fraise to heav'n our vCoice; FHe from wChom joy Fstreameth Poor Cin a manger Flies; Not so bCrightly bFeameth The Csun in yonder Fskies. GmThou my CSavior FartC! FThou my CSavior aFrt!
Come Ffrom on high toC me; I Fcannot rise to Cthee. FCheer my Cwearied Fspirit, O Cpure and holy FChild; Through thyC grace anFd merit, Blest JeCsus, LordF most mild, GmDraw me Cunto theFe! C FDraw me Cunto theFe!
Now Fthrough his Son doth Cshine The FFather's grace Cdivine. FDeath o'er Cus had Freigned Through Csin and Fvanity; CHe for us Fobtained EtCernal joy on Fhigh. GmMay we Cpraise him FtheCre! FMay we Cpraise him Fthere!
Oh, wFhere shall joy Cbe found? Where Fbut on heav'nly Cground? FWhere the Cangels Fsinging With aCll his saints unFite, Sweetest Cpraises Fbringing In Cheav'nly joy and Flight.
GmOh, that Cwe were FtheCre! FOh, that Cwe were Fthere!