By cool Siloam's shady rill
      How fair the lily grows!

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

Lo! such the child whose early feet
      The oaths 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,
In childhood, manhood, age, and death
      To keep us still thine own.

~ Reginald Heber

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