How blest a home, the Father’s house!
There love divine does 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 in 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.
Mrs. J. A. Trench