How blest a home! the Father's house!
There love divine doth rest;
What else could satisfy the hearts
Of those in Jesus blest?
His home made ours—His Father's love
Our heart's full portion given,
The portion of the firstborn Son,
The full delight of heaven.
Oh what a home! The Son who knows,
He only—all His love;
And brings us as His well-beloved
To that bright rest above,
Dwells in His bosom—knoweth all
That in that bosom lies,
And came to earth to make it known,
That we might share His joys.
Oh what a home! There fullest love
Flows through its courts of light;
The Son's divine affections flow
Throughout its depth and height.
And full response the Father gives,
To fill with joy the heart—
No cloud is there to dim the scene
Or shadow to impart.
Oh what a home! But such His love
That He must bring us there,
To fill that home, to be with Him,
And all His glory share.
The Father's house, the Father's heart,
All that the Son is given
Made ours—the objects of His love,
And He, our joy in heaven.