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O Mother Dear, Jerusalem |
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O mother dear, Jerusalem,
When shall I come to thee? When shall my sorrows have an end, Thy joys when shall I see? O happy harbor of the saints! O sweet and pleasant soil! In thee no sorrow may be found, No grief, no care, no toil. No murky cloud o�ershadows thee, Thy gardens and thy gallant walks There trees forevermore bear fruit, |
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