Long ago, in ages past,
Our Jesus dwelt in heaven,
And unto men with homes on earth
His presence was not given:
Or, if he came, in awful guise,
He spake in thundering tones,
And Sinai’s Mount, his dreadful throne,
Answered with flames and groans.
Long ago he came to earth,
And suffered mortal thrall,
Was mocked through many weary years,
And labored in them all:
Oh, tenderly he spake and moved,
And loosed the Satan-bound;
Gave mighty love, tho’ little loved
By those need called around.
And now he dwells in earth and heaven:—
On earth in chosen hearts,
Where he does comfort, guard and guide,
And heavenly peace imparts:
He stands in heaven, with sleepless eyes
And constant voice, to plead
For those dear ones for whom he died, —
He asks before they need!
Our Jesus! Some did love thee well
In olden, darkened days;
And well, they too, who saw thy face,
Might learn thy Name to praise:
But WE, the favored and the blest
What language should be ours,
Who have thee, both in heart and heaven,
Through all the day and hours?
Menie Parkes, Poems, F. Cunninghame, Sydney, , pages 4-5