J G. Whittier
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.