His voice as the sound of the dulcimer sweet, Is heard through the shadows of death; The cedars of Lebanon bow at His feet, The air is perfumed with His breath. His lips as the fountain of righteousness flow, That waters the garden of grace; From which their salvation the Gentiles shall know, And bask in the smiles of His grace. O! Thou in whose presence my soul takes delight, On whom in affliction I call; My comfort by day, and my song in the night, My hope, my salvation, my all. Where dost Thou at noontide resort with Thy sheep, To feed on the pastures of love? Say why in the valley of death should I weep, Or 'lone in the wilderness rove.