Thou Sweet Gliding Kedron MAGILL—Theodore E. Perkins Thou Sweet Gliding Kedron 1 Thou sweet gliding Kedron, by thy silver stream, Our Saviour, at midnight, when moonlight’s pale beam Shone bright on thy waters, would frequently stray, And lose, in thy murmurs, the toils of the day. 2 How damp were the vapors that fell on his head! How hard was his pillow, how humble his bed! The angels, astonished, grew sad at the sight, And followed their master with solemn delight. 3 O garden of Olives,