Classic Poem

O CHRIST , how potent is Thy grace!
Ne'er doth Thy loving-kindness fail,
Whether we see Thee through a veil,
Or face to face.

Now his adopted sons are we
Who called Thee Son: our Surety thus
Gives His unfailing pledge to us
Of bliss to be.

O Father, Son, what then was shown,
Upon the Mount, the cloud dispelled?
The types are gone; the three beheld
Truth stand alone.

O feebly tracked by Faith's dim ray,
Lord, may we one day share Thy bliss;
See Thee; enjoy Thee; bursting this
Our prison of clay.

To Him Who said, the bright cloud riven,
“This is My Son”; and, Son, to Thee;
To Thee, Blest Spirit; One in Three,
All praise be given.