Sweet as the Shepherd’s Tuneful Reed

Sweet as the shep­herd’s tune­ful reed

From Si­on’s mount I heard the sound:

Gay sprang the flow’rets of the mead

And glad­dened Na­ture smiled around.

The voice of peace sa­lutes mine ear;

Christ’s love­ly voice per­fumes the air.

Peace

trou­bled soul

whose plaint­ive moan

Hath taught these rocks the note of woe;

Cease thy com­plaint

sup­press thy groan

And let thy tears for­get to flow;

Behold

the pre­cious balm is found

Which lulls thy pain

which heals thy wound.

Come

free­ly come

by sin op­pressed;

Unburden here the weighty load;

Here find thy refuge

and thy rest;

Safe on the bosom of thy God:

Thy God’s thy Sav­ior—glor­ious word!

That sheathes th’Aveng­er’s glit­ter­ing sword.

As spring the win­ter

day the night

Peace sor­row’s gloom shall chase away;

And smil­ing joy

a ser­aph bright

Shall tend thy steps and near thee stay;

While glo­ry weaves th’im­mor­tal crown

And waits to claim thee for her own.