How beau­ti­ful the sight
Of breth­ren who agree
In friend­ship to unite,
And bonds of cha­ri­ty;
’Tis like the pre­cious oint­ment, shed
O’er all his robes, from Aar­on’s head.

’Tis like the dews that fill
The cups of Her­mon’s flow­ers;
Or Zi­on’s fruit­ful hill,
Bright with the drops of show­ers,
When ming­ling od­ors breathe around,
And glo­ry rests on all the ground

For there the Lord com­mands
Blessings, a bound­less store,
From His un­spar­ing hands,
Yea, life for­ev­er­more;
Thrice hap­py they who meet above
To spend eter­ni­ty in love!