HYMN XXXII. The Church a Garden

We are a Garden wall'd around, Chosen and made peculiar Ground; A little Spot inclos'd by Grace, Out of the World's wide Wilderness.

Like spicy Trees, Believers stand, Planted by an Almighty Hand; And all the Springs in Zion flow To make the young Plantation grow.

Awake, O Heavenly Dove, and come, Blow on this Garden of Perfume: Spirit divine, descend and breathe, A gracious Gale on Plants beneath.

Make then our Spices flow abroad, A grateful Incense to our God: Let Faith, and Love, and Joy appear, And every Grace be active here.