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With hearts set on pilgrimage,
We arise each new morn afresh.
Our souls long to draw near,
The sun waits to light the
way.
O precious Lord God of Hosts,
My flesh cries out for only
You.
I want to be in Your Holy
House,
With all my me, I want inside.
Then and there the rain
will pool,
The tears of joy of those
arrived.
Psalm 84 |
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