By Cool Siloam's Shady Rill

1By cool Siloam's shady rill How fair the lily grows!
How sweet the breath, beneath the hill,
Of Sharon's dewy rose!

2Lo, such the child whose early feet The paths of peace have trod,
Whose secret heart, with influence sweet,
Is upward drawn to God.

3Dependent on Thy bounteous breath,
We seek Thy grace alone,
In childhood, manhood, age, and death,
To keep us still Thine own.