Soft be the gently breathing notes.
Soft be the gently breathing notes
That sing the Saviour’s dying love;
Soft as the evening zephyr floats,
Soft as the tuneful lyres above:
Soft as the morning dews descend,
While warbling birds exulting soar;
So soft to our almighty Friend
Be every sigh our bosoms pour.
2 Pure as the sun’s enlivening ray,