He took Peter and John and James, and went up into a mountain to pray. And as He prayed, the fashion of His countenance was altered, and His raiment was white and glistening.
Luke 9:28–29
Words: Theodore C. Pease, 1891. Appeared in The Pilgrim Hymnal, edited by Charles L. Noyes & Charles L. Ziegler (New York: Pilgrim Press, 1904), number 11.
Music: Hursley Katholisches Gesangbuch (Vienna, 1774). Adapted from the Metrical Psalter, 1855 (🔊 
).
Not long on Hermon’s holy height
The heav’nly vision fills our sight;
We may not breathe that purer air,
Nor build our tabernacles there.
The vision fades, the splendor dies;
The saints have sought again the skies;
The homely garb the Master wore
Is bright with sudden glow no more.
If with the Master we would go,
Our feet must thread the vale below,
Where dark the lonely pathways wind,
The golden glory left behind.
Where hungry souls ask One to feed,
Where wand’rers cry for One to lead,
Where helpless hearts in chains are bound—
There shall the Master still be found:
There, patient bending o’er His task,
No raiment white our eyes shall ask,
Content while through each cloud we trace
The glory of the Master’s face.
