But he, being full of the Holy Spirit, gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God, (acts 7.55).
Seated at his Father’s throne,
Pleading ever for his own
Christ, the Son of Man, appears,
Constant through the changeful years.
Heedlessly I often stray
Slight his laws, forsake his way,
Fear to own his lowly part,
Love him with divided heart.
Still for me he lives and prays
Still his tender love displays
By his all-availing blood,
Pleads the wanderer’s cause with God.
But should sorrows press me sore
Christ stays seated now no more:
Jesus rises when he sees
All my soul’s extremities.
Rises from that place on high
Mindful of his children’s cry,
All his heart with pity moves
For the grief of those he loves.
Each affliction, pain and tear
Jesus measures by his prayer,
Bears my burden of distress
High upon his kindly breast.
When at death’s appalling hour
Flesh must fail beneath its power,
Christ who broke that galling chain
Rises from his throne again.
Stands to greet with smiling face
Saints, long-loved to his embrace,
Calls the way-worn soul to come,
Welcoming his pilgrims home.
