Scripture Verse

Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity! It is like the precious ointment upon the head, that ran down upon the beard, even Aaron’s beard: that went down to the skirts of his garments; as the dew of Hermon, and as the dew that descended upon the mountains of Zion: for there the Lord commanded the blessing, even life for evermore. Psalm 133:1–3


Words: Charles We­sley, Hymns and Sac­red Po­ems (Bris­tol, Eng­land: Fe­lix Far­ley, 1742), pag­es 174–75, alt.

Music: Der­went John Ad­cock, The School Hymn­al Tune Book (Lon­don: Trus­tees of E. Marl­bor­ough, 1882), num­ber 30 (🔊 pdf nwc).

If you know where to get a good pho­to of Ad­cock (head-and-shoul­ders, at least 200×300 pix­els), would you ?

Charles Wesley


Behold, how good a thing
It is to dwell in peace,
How pleasing to our king
This fruit of righteousness,
When brethren all in one agree;
Who know the joys of unity!

When all are sweetly joined,
(True followers of the Lamb,
The same in heart and mind),
And think and speak the same,
And all in love together dwell;
The comfort is unspeakable.

Where unity takes place,
The joys of Heav’n we prove:
This is the Gospel grace,
The unction from above,
The Spirit on believers shed,
Descending swift from Christ our head.

Where unity is found,
The sweet anointing grace
Extends to all around,
And overspreads the place;
To every waiting soul it comes,
And fills it with divine perfumes.

Jesus, our great high priest,
For us the gift received,
For us, and all the rest,
Who have in Him believed;
Forth from our head the blessing goes,
And all His seamless coat o’erflows.

On all His chosen ones
The precious oil comes down;
It runs, and as it runs,
It ever will run on,
E’en to His skirts—the meanest name
That longs to love the bleeding Lamb.

From Aaron’s beard it rolls
(Those nearest to His face)
To humble, trembling souls
Who feebly sue for grace:
I know the grace for all is free,
For lo! it reaches now to me.

Grace every morning new,
And every night we feel
The soft, refreshing dew,
That falls on Hermon’s hill;
On Sion it doth sweetly fall:
The grace of one descends on all.

E’en now our Lord doth pour
The blessing from above,
A kindly, gracious shower
Of heart-reviving love,
The former and the latter rain,
The love of God, and love of man.

In Him when brethren join,
And follow after peace,
The fellowship divine
He promises to bless,
His chiefest graces to bestow,
Where two or three are met below.

The riches of His grace
In fellowship are giv’n
To Sion’s chosen race,
The citizens of Heav’n;
He fills them with His choicest store,
He gives them life for evermore.