Hymn on Baptism

What say our souls! behold the grave,

Our glorious Head desired,

For which to Jordan’s swelling wave,

The God himself retired.

Still from its shore he seems to plead,

And asks with gentlest voice,

Will ye not follow where I lead;

And make my grave your choice?

Yes, Lord, we follow, yes we come,

Our glowing hearts reply;

All ardent for the mystic tomb,

We long with thee to die.

Where would we not for Jesus go,

Who drew expiring breath:

Who tried for us the depths of woe,

And ventured down to death.


Text: Baptist Magazine, 4 (February 1812), p. 88; also Whelan, Nonconformist Women Writers, vol. 4, p. 101.