And is it so! we shall be like Thy Son,
Is this the grace which He for us has won?
Father of glory! thought beyond all thought
In glory to His own blest likeness brought.
Is this the grace which He for us has won?
Father of glory! thought beyond all thought
In glory to His own blest likeness brought.
O Jesus, Lord, who loved us like to Thee?
Fruit of Thy work, with Thee, too, there to see
Thy glory, Lord, while endless ages roll;
Thy saints the prize and travail of Thy soul.
Yet it must be, Thy love had not its rest
Were Thy redeemed not with Thee fully blest;
That love that gives not as the world, but shares
All it possesses with its loved co-heirs.
Not we alone, Thy loved ones all, complete,
In glory round Thee there with joy shall meet,
All like Thee, for Thy glory like Thee, Lord,
Object supreme of all, by all adored.
The heart is satisfied, can ask no more;
All thought of self is now for ever o’er;
Christ, its unmingled object, fills the heart
In blest adoring love-its endless part.