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Thou sweet gliding Cedron.
Thou sweet gliding Cedron, by thy silver stream
Our Saviour would linger in moonlight’s soft beam:
And by thy bright waters till midnight would stay,
And lose in thy murmurs the toils of the day.
CHORUS.
Come, saints, and adore him; come bow at his feet;
O give him the glory, the praise that is meet;
Let joyful hosannas unceasing arise,
And join the full chorus that gladdens the skies.
2 How damp were the vapors that fell on his head,
How hard was his pillow, how humble his bed;
The angels beholding, amazed at the sight,
Attended their Master with solemn delight.
3 O garden of Olives! thou dear honored spot,
The fame of thy wonders shall ne’er be forgot;
The theme most transporting to seraphs above,
The triumph of sorrow, the triumph of love!
Maria De Fleury.