Words: . This hymn, and Im­mor­tal Love, For­ev­er Full, come from Whit­ti­er’s po­em “The Mas­ter,” in The Pan­o­ra­ma, and Other Po­ems, 1856.

Music: Se­ren­i­ty, adapt­ed by , 1856, from “Waft, Ye Winds,” by , 1836.

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!