Blest are the sons of peace,
Whose hearts and hopes are one;
Whose kind designs to serve and please,
Through all their actions run.
Blest is the pious house,
Where zeal and friendship meet;
Their songs of praise, their mingled vows,
Make their communion sweet.
Thus, when on Aaron's head,
They poured the rich perfume;
The oil through all his garments spread,
And pleasure filled the room.
Thus on the heavenly hills,
The saints are blessed above;
Where joy like morning dew distils,
And all the air is love.
--Isaac Watts
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