How beau­ti­ful the sight
Of brethren who agree
In friendship to unite,
And bonds of charity;
’Tis like the precious ointment, shed
O’er all his robes, from Aaron’s head.

’Tis like the dews that fill
The cups of Hermon’s flowers;
Or Zion’s fruitful hill,
Bright with the drops of showers,
When mingling odors breathe around,
And glo­ry rests on all the ground

For there the Lord commands
Blessings, a boundless store,
From His unsparing hands,
Yea, life for­ev­er­more;
Thrice happy they who meet above
To spend eternity in love!