When the Lord of love was here,
Happy hearts to Him were dear,
Though His heart was sad;
Worn and lone­some for our sake,
Yet he turned aside to make
All the wea­ry glad.

Meek and low­ly were His ways,
From His lov­ing grew His praise,
From His giv­ing, pray­er;
All the out­cast thronged to hear,
All the sor­row­ful drew near
To en­joy His care.

When he walked the fields, He drew
From the flow­ers and birds and dew
Parables of God;
For with­in His heart of love
All the soul of man did move,
God had His abode.

Lord, be ours Thy pow­er to keep
In the ve­ry heart of grief,
And in tri­al, love;
In our meek­ness to be wise,
And through sor­rows to arise
To our God above.

Fill us with Thy deep de­sire
All the sin­ful to in­spire
With the Fa­ther’s life;
Free us from the cares that press
On the heart of world­li­ness
From the fret and strife.

And, when in the fields and woods
Were are filled with Na­ture’s moods,
May the grace be giv­en
With Thy faith­ful heart to say,
All I see and feel to­day
Is my Fa­ther’s Hea­ven.