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festal strains to-day reveal The joys that faithful spirits feel, As often as the inmost heart In these true Sabbaths bears a part.

The pure of soul alone have grace The future joys of Heav'n to trace, And learn in foretaste sweet and rare What glories deck the Blessed there:

What bliss, in that celestial land, They know, the bright Angelic band; Who see the King That crowns the fight, In all His Majesty of light.