Listen to it, it may teach us

Wisdom, with its words of gold!

Let this far-off blessing reach us

From the desert saints of old.

CONTENTS

Underneath the vines they tended

Where the garden air was sweet,

Where the shadows, softly blended,

Made an ever cool retreat,—

These good brethren had assembled,

On their abbot to attend;

All were sad, and many trembled,

Thinking how the day would end.

Of their little congregation

One who long had faithful been,

Had, beneath a sore temptation,

Fallen into grievous sin.

What it was they have not told us,

But we know, whatever the blame,

If God's hand should cease to hold us,

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