- By cool Siloam's shady rill
How sweet the lily grows!
How sweet the breath beneath the hill
Of Sharon's dewy rose!
- Lo! such the child whose early feet
The paths of peace have trod,
Whose secret heart with influence sweet
Is upward drawn to God.
- By cool Siloam's shady rill
The lily must decay,
The rose that blooms beneath the hill
Must shortly fade away;
- O thou, whose infant feet were found
Within thy Father's shrine,
Whose years, with changeless virtue crowned,
Were all alike divine,
- Dependent on thy bounteous breath
We seek thy grace alone,
Through every stage of life, and death,
To keep us still thine own. Amen.