Lyrics:
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His voice as the sound of the dulcimer sweet
Is heard thro' the shadows of death;
The cedars of Lebanon bow at his feet,
The air is perfumed with his breath.
His lips as the fountain of righteousness flow,
That waters the garden of grace;
From which their salvation the Gentiles shall know,
And bask in the smiles of his face.
O! Why should I wander an alien from Thee,
And cry in the desert for bread?
Thy foes will rejoice when my sorrows they see,
And smile at the tears I have shed.
Ye daughters of Zion, declare, have you seen,
The star that on Isreal shone?
Say is in your tents my beloved has been,
And where, with his flock, he is gone?
"What is thy beloved, thou dignified fair?
What excellent beauties has he?
His charms and perfections be pleased to declare,
That we may embrace him with thee."
This is my beloved, his form is divine;
His vestments shed odour around;
The locks on his head are like grapes on the vine,
When autumn with plenty is crown'd.
The roses of Sharon, the lilies that grow,
In the vales, on the banks of the streams,
On his cheeks in the beauty of excellence blow,
And his eyes are as quivers of beams.
His voice as the sound of the dulcimer sweet
Is heard thro' the shadows of death;
The cedars of Lebanon bow at his feet,
The air is perfumed with his breath.
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