Thou soft flowing Kedron, by thy silver stream

Thou soft flowing Kedron, by thy silver stream,

Our Savior at midnight, when Cynthia’s pale beam

Shone bright on thy waters, would frequently stray,

And lose in thy murmurs, the toils of the day.

How damp were the vapours that fell on his head,

How hard was his pillow, how humble his bed;

The Angels astonish’d, grew sad at the sight,

And follow’d their Master with solemn delight.

O garden of Olivet, dear honour’d spot!

Thy name and thy wonders shall ne’er be forgot;

The theme most transporting to seraphs above,

The triumph of Sorrow! the triumph of Love.

’Twas here he engag’d with the Lion of hell,

Beneath his strong arm all our enemies fell:

’Twas here he encounter’d with infinite Wrath

And conquer’d by Love that was stronger than Death.

Come saints, and adore him, come bow at his feet;

O give him the glory and praise that is meet:

Let joyful hosannahs unceasing arise,

And join the grand chorus that gladdens the skies.

Text: Maria de Fleury, Divine Poems and Essays on Various Subjects (London: Printed for the Author, and sold by T. Wilkins, Aldermanbuy; by Bellamy and Roberts, No. 202, Strand; M. Trapp, No. 1, Pater-noster Row; Mr. Nott [Knott], Lombard Street; M. Gurney, No. 128, Holborn; and by the Author, No. 31, Jewin-street, 1791), p. 97.