Classic Poem

Lord, thou on earth didst love thine own,
Didst love them to the end;
O still from thy celestial throne,
Let gifts of love descend.

The love the Father bears to thee,
His own Eternal Son,
Fill all thy saints, till all shall be
In pure affection one.

As thou for us didst stoop so low,
Warmed by love's holy flame,
So let our deeds of kindness flow
To all who bear thy name.

One blessed fellowship in love,
Thy living Church should stand,
Till faultless, she at last above,
Shall shine at thy right hand.

O glorious day when she, the Bride,
With her dear Lord appears!
When robed in beauty at his side,
She shall forget her tears.