Lord, ’tis a pleasant thing to stand
In gardens planted by Thy hand;
Let me within Thy courts be seen,
Like a young cedar fresh and green.

There grow Thy saints in faith and love,
Blest with Thine influence from above;
Not Lebanon with all its trees
Yields such a comely sight as these.

The plants of grace shall ever live,
Nature decays, but grace must thrive;
Time, that doth all things else impair.
Still makes them flourish strong and fair.

Laden with fruits of age, they show
The Lord is holy, just, and true;
None that attend His gates shall find,
A God unfaithful or unkind.



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