HERE, Lord, upon this mount of grace,
Where we with wonder see
Thy glistening robes, thy shining face,
How good it is to be!
Here, Lord, abide; and we will build
Three tents for thee and thine;
And glory, which the temple filled,
Shall ever round us shine. As thou transfigured didst appear,
Low at thy feet we bowed;
And, with a great and trembling fear,
We entered in the cloud;
But now thy words our fear allay;
How well we know their tone!
Oh, here we would forever stay,
To see thee, Lord, alone! But no; thou wilt not here abide;
For soon with eager feet
Thou goest down the mountain side,
Thy service to complete.
Thy loved ones need delivering grace;
The suffering need thy care;
And for a lost and ruined race
Thou hast a cross to bear. Not longer, then, will we here rest,
But thy disciples be;
And from this mount, with hearts refreshed,
We now will follow thee.
Oh, help us by thy grace within
To bear the toil and heat;
Thy poor to serve, the lost to win,
And e'en our cross to meet! A higher mount we then shall climb,
Led thither by thy grace,
Where, in its majesty sublime,
Forever shines thy face.
Not in the tents that we prepare
Can dwell that radiance bright,
But in that sunless city where
Thy glory is the light.
—Selected.