We may not climb the heavenly steeps
To bring the Lord Christ down
In vain we search the lowest deeps
For Him no depths can drown
But warm, sweet, tender, even yet
A present help is He
And faith has still its Olivet
And love its Galilee
The healing of the seamless dress
Is by our beds of pain
We touch Him in life's throng and press
And we are whole again
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Through Him the first fond prayers are said
Our lips of childhood frame
The last low whispers of our dead
Are burdened with His name
O Lord and Master of us all
Whate'er our name or sign
We own Thy sway, we hear Thy call
We test our lives by Thine!
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