A Garden fenc'd from common earth
By special sov'reign grace,
Enrich'd with plants of heav'nly birth,
The Church of Jesus is.

His Gospel is the open sky,
His love the shining sun;
Rivers of peace, which never dry,
Through all this garden run.

His spirit is the heav'nly wind
That o'er this garden blows,
And, op'ning each immortal mind,
The Saviour's image shows.

Faith, like an ivy, to the rock
That stands for ever cleaves,
And through the tempest's loudest shock
Eternal calm perceives.

Assurance, like a cedar, rears
Its stately branches high,
Beyond the reach of doubts and fears,
And blossoms in the sky.