And at your door it stands,
It is but a sprout, but it's well budded out
By the work of our Lord's hands.
The hedges and trees they are so green,
As green as any leek,
Our Heavenly Father, He watered them
With his heavenly dew so sweet.
The heavenly gates are open wide,
Our paths are beaten plain,
And if a man be not too far gone,