From Zion’s holy hill there rose A fount divine, that ever flows; Heaven’s smile is on its waters shed, By heaven’s own dews the fount is fed. | That stream of Truth—a silver thread, Scarce known, save by its fountain-head— Now onward pours, a mighty flood, And fills the new-formed world with good. | Where’er that living fountain flows, New life its healing wave bestows, And man, from sin’s corruptions free, Inspires with its own purity. | A spirit, breathed from Zion’s hill, In holy hearts is living still,— That Comforter from heaven above, The presence of celestial love. | O, may this spirit ever be Our bond of peace and unity! Thus shall we teach, as Christ began, Through love, the brotherhood of man. | |