Thy Word, O Lord, like gentle dews,
                                        
                                        Falls soft on hearts that pine;
                                        
                                        Lord, to Thy garden ne’er refuse
                                        
                                        This heavenly balm of Thine.
                                        
                                        Watered by Thee, let every tree
                                        
                                        Then blossom to Thy praise,
                                        
                                        By grace of Thine bear fruit divine
                                        
                                        Through all the coming days.