1 See Isr'el's tribes brought near to God;
And ev'ry prince present his rod:
Whilst one alone with blossoms blooms,
And sheds the almond's rich perfumes.

2 'Twas his, the type of him divine,
Whom thou, O Lord, hast chose as thine;
The man, the priest, the stem, the root,
Who bears for us immortal fruit.

3 Jesus, High Priest of good to come!
Thy rod, thy staff shall guide us home:
Thro' death's dark vale, we'll trust its pow'r,
Nor fear a shadow's shaded hour.