1 How plea­sant ’tis to see
Our kin and friends agree,
Each in their pro­per sta­tion move;
And each ful­fill their part
With sym­pa­thiz­ing heart,
In all the cares of life and love!

2 ’Tis like the oint­ment shed
On Aar­on’s sac­red head,
Divinely rich, di­vine­ly sweet;
The oil thro’ all the room
Diffused a choice per­fume,
Ran thro’ his robes, and blest his feet.

3 Like fruit­ful show­ers of rain
That wa­ter all the plain,
Descending from the neigh­bor­ing hills;
Such streams of plea­sure roll
Thro’ ev­ery friend­ly soul,
Where love like heav’n­ly dew dis­tills.