We May Not Climb the Heavenly Steeps

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.

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!