Lord, ’Tis a Pleasant Thing to Stand

Lord

’tis a plea­sant thing to stand

In gar­dens plant­ed by Thine hand;

Let me with­in Thy courts be seen

Like a young ce­dar

fresh and green.

There grow Thy saints in faith and love

Blest with Thine in­flu­ence from ab­ove;

Not Le­ba­non with all its trees

Yields such a come­ly sight as these.

The plants of grace shall ev­er live;

Nature de­cays

but grace must thrive;

Time

that doth all things else im­pair

Still makes them flour­ish strong and fair.

Laden with fruits of age

they show

The Lord is ho­ly

just and true;

None that at­tend His gates shall find

A God un­faith­ful or un­kind.