My Father is the mighty Lord, whose arm

Spans earth and sky, and shields His child from harm--

Whose still, small voice of love is yet the same

As once from Horeb's fiery mount it came--

Whose glorious works the angel-choirs declare.

He hears their praise, and hearkens to my prayer.

My King is God's eternal, holy Son,

And He anoints me as a chosen one;

He has redeemed me with His precious blood,

And for unnumber'd debts has surety stood;

He fought the foe, and drew me by His hand,

Out from his camp, into His Father's land.

My brotherhood's a circle, stretching wide

Around one fount, although a sea divide;

With fathers, who behold the Lord in light,

With saints unborn, who shall adore His might,

With brothers, who the race of faith now run,

In union and communion, I am one!

My journey's end lies upward and afar;

It glimmers bright, but vaguely as a star;

And oft as faith has caught some glimpse serene,

So often clouds and mists obscure the scene;

Yet, in this longing ends each vision dim--

To see my Lord, and to be made like Him!

My grave, so long a dark and drear abyss,

Is now scarce noticed on the way to bliss;

Once at the gates of Hell it yawning lay,

Now stands as portal to the land of day;

It takes me to the Fathers home so blest;

It brings me to the feast, a welcome guest.