340 ~ By Cool Siloam’s Shady Rill
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By cool Siloam's shady rill How fair the lily grows! How sweet the breath, beneath the hill, Of Sharon's dewy rose!
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Lo, such the child whose early feet The paths of peace have trod, Whose secret heart, with influence sweet, Is upward drawn to God.
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Dependent on Thy bounteous breath, We seek Thy grace alone, In childhood, manhood, age, and death, To keep us still Thine own.