One cup of healing oil and wine, One offering laid upon mercy's shrine, Is thrice more grateful, Lord, to Thee, Than lifted eye or bended knee. In true and inward faith we trace The source of every outward grace; Within the pious heart it plays, A living fount of joy and praise. Kind deeds of peace and love betray Where'er the stream has found its way; But where these spring not rich and fair, The stream has never wandered there.
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