His Voice as the Sound of the Dulcimer Sweet
Melody traditional American (tune name, Samanthra); Words by Joseph Swain
arranged by Jennifer Rhodes
His voice as the sound of the dulcimer sweet,
Is heard through the shadows of death;
The cedars of Lebanon blow at His feet,
The air is perfumed with His breath.
His lips as the fountains of righteousness flow,
That waters the garden of grace,
From which their salvation the Gentiles shall know,
And bask in the smile of His face.
Oh, why should I wander and alien from Thee,
And cry in the desert for bread?
Thy foes will rejoice when my sorrows they see,
And smile at the tears I have shed.
Where dost Thou at noontide resort with the sheep,
To feed on the pastures of love?
Say why in the valley of death should I weep,
Or alone in the wilderness rove?
Oh! 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!
His voice as the sound of the dulcimer sweet,
Is heard through the shadows of death;
The cedars of Lebanon blow at His feet,
The air is perfumed with His breath.
Melody traditional American (tune name, Samanthra); Words by Joseph Swain
arranged by Jennifer Rhodes
His voice as the sound of the dulcimer sweet,
Is heard through the shadows of death;
The cedars of Lebanon blow at His feet,
The air is perfumed with His breath.
His lips as the fountains of righteousness flow,
That waters the garden of grace,
From which their salvation the Gentiles shall know,
And bask in the smile of His face.
Oh, why should I wander and alien from Thee,
And cry in the desert for bread?
Thy foes will rejoice when my sorrows they see,
And smile at the tears I have shed.
Where dost Thou at noontide resort with the sheep,
To feed on the pastures of love?
Say why in the valley of death should I weep,
Or alone in the wilderness rove?
Oh! 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!
His voice as the sound of the dulcimer sweet,
Is heard through the shadows of death;
The cedars of Lebanon blow at His feet,
The air is perfumed with His breath.