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6s & 7s.
The land of promise.
Sinner, go; will you go
To the highlands of heaven?
Where the storms never blow,
And the long summer’s given;
Where the bright, blooming flowers
Are their odors emitting;
And the leaves of the bowers
In the breezes are flitting.
2 Where the rich golden fruit
Is in bright clusters pending,
And the deep laden boughs,
Of life’s fair tree are bending;
And where life’s crystal stream
Is unceasingly flowing,
And the verdure is green,
And eternally growing.
2 Where the saints robed in white—
Cleansed in life’s flowing fountain—
Shining beauteous and bright,
They inhabit the mountain;
Where no sin, nor dismay,
Neither trouble nor sorrow,
Will be felt for a day,
Nor be feared for the morrow.
4 He’s prepared thee a home—
Sinner, canst thou believe it?
And invites thee to come,
Sinner, wilt thou receive it?
O come, sinner, come,
For the tide is receding,
And the Saviour will soon,
And for ever, cease pleading.