How blest a home! The Fa­ther’s house!
There love di­vine doth rest;
What else could sa­tis­fy the hearts
Of those in Je­sus blest?
His home made ours—His Fa­ther’s love
Our heart’s full por­tion giv­en,
The por­tion of the first­born Son,
The full de­light of Heav’n.

Oh, what a home! The Son who knows,
He on­ly—all His love;
And brings us as His well be­lov­èd,
To that bright rest above,
Dwells in His bo­som—know­eth all
That in that bo­som lies,
And came to earth to make it known,
That we might share His joys.

Oh, what a home! There full­est love
Flows through its courts of light;
The Son’s di­vine af­fect­ions flow
Throughout its depth and height.
And full re­sponse the Fa­ther gives,
To fill with joy the heart—
No cloud is there to dim the scene,
Or sha­dow to im­part.

Oh, what a home! But such His love
That He must bring us there,
To fill that home, to be with Him,
And all His glo­ry share.
The Fa­ther’s house, the Fa­ther’s heart,
All that the Son is giv­en
Made ours—the ob­jects of His love
And He, our joy in Heav’n.