The Son of Con­so­la­tion!
Of Le­vi’s priest­ly line,
Filled with the Ho­ly Spir­it,
And fer­vent faith di­vine,
With low­ly self-obla­tion,
For Christ an of­fer­ing meet,
He laid his earth­ly rich­es
At the apos­tles’ feet.

The Son of Con­so­lation!
O name of sooth­ing balm!
It fell on sick and wea­ry
Like breath of Hea­ven’s own calm!
And the blest Son of Com­fort
With fear­less lov­ing hand
The Gen­tiles’ great apos­tle
Led to the faith­ful band.

The Son of Con­so­la­tion!
Drawn near un­to his Lord,
He won the mar­tyr’s glo­ry,
And passed to his re­ward;
With him is faith now end­ed,
For ev­er lost in sight,
But love, made per­fect, fills him
With praise, and joy, and light.

The Son of Con­so­la­tion!
Lord, hear our hum­ble pray­er,
That each of us Thy child­ren
This bless­èd name may bear;
That we, sweet com­fort shed­ding
O’er homes of pain and woe,
’Midst sick­ness and in pri­sons,
May seek Thee here be­low.

The Sons of Conso­la­tion!
O what their bliss shall be
When Christ the King shall tell them,
Ye did it un­to Me
The mer­ci­ful and lov­ing
The Lord of life shall own,
And as His price­less jew­els,
Shall set them round His throne.