In Ju­dah’s rug­ged wil­der­ness,
Where Jor­dan rolls his flood,
In man­ners strict, and rude in dress,
The ho­ly Bap­tist stood.

And while up­on the ri­ver’s side
The peo­ple thronged to hear,
Repent, the sac­red preach­er cried;
The heav­en­ly king­dom’s near.

Now Je­sus to the stream des­cends;
His feet the wa­ters lave;
And o’er His head, that hum­bly bends,
The Bap­tist pours the wave.

When lo! a heav­en­ly form ap­pears,
Descending as a dove;
And won­drous sounds th’as­sem­bly hears,
Proclaiming from above—

This is My well be­lov­èd Son;
On Him My Spir­it rests;
Now is His reign of grace be­gun;
Attend His high be­hests.

The sac­red voice has reached our ear,
And still through dist­ant lands
Shall sound, till all His name re­vere,
And hon­or His com­mands.