By cool Siloam's shady rill
1
By cool Siloam's shady rillHow fair the lily grows!How sweet the breath, beneath the hill,Of Sharon's dewy rose!
2
Lo, such the child whose early feetThe paths of peace have trod,Whose secret heart, with influence sweet,Is upward drawn to God.
3
Dependent on thy bounteous breath,We seek thy grace alone,In childhood, manhood, age, and death,To keep us still thine own.