Lord, ’tis a pleasant thing to stand
In gardens planted by Thine hand;
Let me within Thy courts be seen,
Like a young cedar, fresh and green.

There grow Thy saints in faith and love,
Blest with Thine influence from above;
Not Lebanon with all its trees
Yields such a comely sight as these.

The plants of grace shall ever live;
Nature decays, but grace must thrive;
Time, that doth all things else im­pair,
Still makes them flourish strong and fair.

Laden with fruits of age, they show
The Lord is holy, just and true;
None that attend His gates shall find
A God unfaithful or un­kind.