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Georgia

C.M.

1.

Return, O God of love, return,

Earth is a tiresome place;

How long shall we, thy children, mourn

Our absence from thy face?

1.

Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings,

Thy better portion trace;

Rise from transitory things

Toward heaven, thy native place:

Sun, and moon, and stars decay;

Time shall soon this earth remove;

Rise, my soul, and haste away

To seats prepared above.

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