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Not to the terrors of the Lord,
The tempest, fire, and smoke;
Not to the thunder of that word
Which God on Sinai spoke.
But we are come to Zion's hill,
The city of our God,
Where milder words declare his will,
And spread his love abroad.
Behold th' innumerable host
Of angels clothed in light!
Behold the spirits of the just,
Whose faith is turned to sight!
Behold the blessed assembly there
Whose names are writ in heav'n;
Hear God, the Judge of all, declare
Their sins, through Christ, forgiv'n!
Angels, and living saints and dead,
But one communion make;
All join in Christ, their vital Head,
And tiii his love partake.