My Father's House

 •  1 min. read
 
Oh, what a home! The Father’s house,
There love divine doth rest;
No other spot can hold the hearts
Of those by Jesus blest.
His homemade ours—
His Father’s love
Our heart’s full portion given—
The portion of the only Son,
The great delight of heaven.
Oh, what a home!
The Father knows—
And only He—the Son:
The Son well knows the Father too,
His well-beloved One:
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!
Love upon love
Re-echoing through its breadth;
The Son’s divine affections flow
Throughout its height and depth.
And full response the Father gives,
Heart answering to heart,
And not a cloud to cross the scene
A shadow to impart.
Oh, what a home! But such His love
That He must fetch 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 of heaven.