On proud Egypt’s reedy water,
Lo, the infant Moses lies,
Cruel Pharaoh, bent on slaughter,
Must not find him, or he dies.
There his sobbing mother laid him,
In his little osier bed,
Praying Israel’s God to aid him,
Bless and guard his infant head.
While she sighs farewell for ever,
Pharaoh’s daughter passes by;
In the reeds of that dark river
Sees the lovely infant lie.
In her royal palace tended,
By his own fond mother reared,
Soon the child, so unbefriended,
Grew a man renowned and feared.
But a court could not seduce him,
Nor its pleasures all outpoured;
Gold nor grandeur could induce him
To neglect or leave the Lord.