Thou Lord, art love, and ev­ery­where
Thy name is bright­ly shown;
Beneath, on earth—Thy foot­stool fair;
Above, in Heaven—Thy throne.

Thy Word is love; in lines of gold
There mer­cy prints its trace:
In na­ture we Thy steps be­hold,
The Gos­pel shows Thy face.

Thy ways are love; though they trans­cend
Our fee­ble range of sight,
They wind through dark­ness to their end
In ev­er­last­ing light.

Thy thoughts are love, and Je­sus is
The lov­ing voice they find;
His love lights up the vast abyss
Of the eter­nal mind.

Thy chas­tise­ments are love; more deep
They stamp the seal di­vine;
And by a sweet com­pul­sion keep
Our spir­its near­er Thine.

Thy Heav­en is the abode of love!
O bless­èd Lord, that we
May there, when time’s dim shades re­move,
Be ga­thered home to Thee!

Then with Thy rest­ing saints to fall
Adoring round Thy throne,
When all shall love Thee, Lord, and all
Shall in Thy love be one.