And is it so? I shall be like Thy Son|
Is this the grace which He, for me, has won?
Father of Glory (thought beyond all thought)
In glory to His own blest likeness brought?
O Jesus, Lord, who loved me like to Thee?
Fruit of Thy work with Thee, too, there to see
Thy glory, Lord, while endless ages roll;
Myself the prize and travail of Thy soul.
Yet it must be! Thy love had not its rest
Were Thy redeemed not with Thee, fully bless'd.
That love that gives not as the world but shares
All it possesses with its loved co-heirs.
Nor I 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.
And yet it must be so, a perfect state
To meet Christ's perfect love-what we await!
The Spirit's hopes, desires in us enwrought;
This present joy with living blessing frought.
The heart is satisfied, can ask no more:
All thought of self is now, forever, o'er.
Christ, its unmingled Object, fills the heart:
In bless'd adoring love its endless part.
Father of Glory, in Thy presence bright|
All this shall be unfolded in the light!
Thy children, all, with joy Thy counsels know
Fulfilled, patient in hope, while here below.
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