Behold a lovely vine,
Here in this desert ground;
The blossoms shoot and promise fruit,
And tender grapes are found.

Its circling branches rise,
And shade the neighb’ring lands;
With lovely charms she spreads her arms,
With clusters in her hands.

This city can’t be hid.
It’s built upon a hill;
The dazzling light it shines so bright,
It doth the valleys fill.

Ye trees which lofty stand,
And stars with sparkling light;
Ye Christians hear, both far and near,
‘Tis joy to see the sight.

Shall feeble nature sing,
And man not join the lays?
O may their throats be swell’d with notes,
And fill’d with songs of praise.

Glory to God on high,
For His redeeming grace;
The blessed Dove came from above,
To save our ruined race.

Recordings 1