There is a pure and tran­quil wave,
[or There is a pure and peace­ful wave]
That is­sues from the throne of grace;
Whose wa­ters glad­den as they lave
The bright and heav’n­ly dwell­ing place.

In liv­ing streams be­hold that tide,
Thro’ Christ, the rock, pro­fuse­ly burst,
And in His Word be­hold sup­plied,
The fount for which our spi­rits thirst.

The pil­grim, faint, who seems to sink
Beneath the sul­try sky of time,
May here re­pose and free­ly drink
The wa­ters of that bet­ter clime.

And ev­ery soul may here par­take
The bless­ings of the fount above;
And none who drink will e’er for­sake
The crys­tal stream of bound­less love.