J G. Whittier

C.M.

WE may not climb the heavenly steeps

To bring the Lord Christ down;

In vain we search the lowest deeps

For Him who fills heaven’s throne.

2

But to the contrite spirit yet

A present help is He;

And faith has yet its Olivet,

And love its Galilee.

3

The healing of His seamless dress

Is by our beds of pain;

We touch Him in life’s throng and press,

And we are whole again.

4

Through Him the first fond prayers are said,

Our lips of childhood frame,

The last low whispers of our dead

Are burdened with His name.

5

O Lord and Saviour of us all,

Whate’er our name or sign,

We own Thy sway, we hear Thy call,

And form our lives by Thine.

6

We faintly hear, we dimly see,

In differing phrase we pray;

But, dim or clear, we own in Thee

The Life, the Truth, the Way.