Down in the val­ley among the sweet grass­es,
Walks my be­lov­èd—His foot­prints I see;
Haste I to fol­low Him, Sav­ior and Lov­er,
How the winds whis­per Thy dear name to me.

Know’st Thou I seek Thee? O haste to dis­cov­er
The place of thy shel­tered and frag­rant re­treat,
Where Thou dost rest with Thy flocks at the noon­tide,
By fount­ains of wa­ter, un­searched by the heat.

Now I ap­proach Thee, O fair­est Re­deem­er!
Lured by Thy beau­ty to dwell in Thy love;
Hide not Thy face from the heart that ad­ores Thee;
Have I not sought Thee, and found Thee, my Dove!

Gentler Thy voice than the whis­per of an­gels—
Brighter Thy smile than the sun in the sky;
Gather me ten­der­ly, close to Thy bo­som,
Faint with Thy love­li­ness—there let me die.