My feet have pressed the old path He trod,
And crossed over the same clear rills;
I have set me down on the grassy sod,
Where rested the weary son of God,
Who bore our sorrows and ills.
In the stake,
Gennesareth Lake,
Unbounded delight for His dear sake!

Nazareth’s valley and hills are fair,
And lovely is Bethlehem;
Wound Olivet’s scenes their glories share,
In the Garden shade and Bethany there,
With precious Jerusalem!
But dearest Sea
Of Galilee.
How the life of my Lord is linked with thee!

No crouds along thy thoroughfares pour;
Silence and ruin are here to-day;
White sails are seen on thy waves no more;
The cities that flourished upon thy shore
Have passed in their guilt away:
But thou art yet
Gennesaret,
A picture unchanged in thy hill frame set!