We may not climb the heavenly steeps To bring the Lord Christ down In vain we search the lowest deeps For Him no depths can drown
But warm, sweet, tender, even yet A present help is He And faith has still its Olivet And love its Galilee
The healing of the seamless dress Is by our beds of pain We touch Him in life's throng and press And we are whole again
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Through Him the first fond prayers are said Our lips of childhood frame The last low whispers of our dead Are burdened with His name
O Lord and Master of us all Whate'er our name or sign We own Thy sway, we hear Thy call We test our lives by Thine!
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