58b Primrose
Salvation! O, the joyful sound! 'Tis pleasure to our ears; A sov'reign balm for ev'ry wound, A cordial for our fears. Buried in sorrow and in sin, At hell's dark door we lay; But we arise by grace divine To see a heav'nly day. Salvation! Let the echo fly The spacious earth around, While all the armies of the sky, Conspire to raise the sound. |