Isaac Watts, 1674-1748
Return, O God of love, return;|
Earth is a tiresome place:
How long shall we, thy children, mourn
Our absence from thy face?
2. Let heav'n succeed our painful years,
3. Thy wonders to thy servants show,|
Make thy own work complete;
Then shall our souls thy glory know,
And own thy love was great.
4. Then shall we shine before thy throne
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