The Lamb of God

John 21:25  •  6 min. read  •  grade level: 3
Blessed the Jesus whom we know
In love’s unwearied paths below,
Tracked by evangelists when here,
Is He who is ascended there;
And faith still knows Him as the same,
And reads with confidence His name.
God’s glory shone in that blessed face,
In power, dignity, and grace.
‘Twas not the light of Sinai’s brow,
Which made all Israel to withdraw;
There was not there a single beam,
However dazzling it might seem,
Which told the heart to get a veil
To hide it, lest it faint and fail.
“Master, where dwellest Thou?” they say,
And, gladly bidden, there they stay;
And in that new, though holy ground,
A dwelling-place their spirits found.
Conscience another set apart
In converse with his wakened heart;
But for the fig-tree’s shade is given
Jesus, and then an opened heaven.
“Come see a Man that told me all,”
Was a convicted sinner’s call;
And those who at her bidding come,
Like her, with Him soon find their home.
E’en she for whom the angry hill
Would yield its stones to stone and kill,
The accursed, condemned, and guilty one,
Remains at ease with Him alone.
Thus’mid our ruins once it shone,
‘Mid its own glories now’tis known;
But we can bear it brightest there,
Since we have learned it dearly here.
Lord, I desire to trace Thee more
Than e’er mine eye has done before;
Each passage of Thy life to be
A link between my soul and Thee!
For we shall see Thee as Thou wert,
When every utterance of Thine heart,
Through all Thy works of love divine,
Made all our need and sorrow Thine.
And we shall see Thee as Thou art,
And in Thine image bear our part,
In glory Thou, in glory we,
Bright in the heavenly majesty!
No part of Thy blessed life below
But in its fullness I shall know,
Retouched by Thee, regained by me,
In realms of immortality!
With burning hearts we’ll then rejoice
In echoes of that well known voice,
Which to two burning hearts of old
Did mysteries of grace unfold:
The voice that stilled bold nature’s strife,
The voice that called the dead to life,
Which said in sympathy, “I will,”
And spoke in power, “Peace, be still.”
The hand that touched disease away,
And proved the sinking Peter’s stay;
That raised the widow’s child, and then
To her fond arms gave back again;
The hand that washed the feet all clean,
Speaking the heart that beat within;
The lifted hand that blessed them here
When parting, but to bless them there.
The arms which still are what they were
When little children’s home was there.
The bosom, too, the same as when
John the beloved leaned thereon.
Here changes wrought no change in Thee,
The same from first to last we see;
In life and resurrection Thou,
Jesus! wert one both then and now.
In sweetest, gentlest forms of grace,
Amid Thine own Thou took’st Thy place;
The draught of fishes on the shore
Bespoke Thee risen as before;
And the spread table told of One,
The same, past, present, and to come.
Fed in the wilderness of old,
The camp of God nor bought nor sold,
But stores of heaven were oped each morn,
And angels’ food, or heaven’s corn,
Conveyed on dew, supplied the place—
Grand, gorgeous miracle of grace!
And Thou, Lord Jesus, in Thy day,
Again didst food in deserts lay;
Yet not in grandeur of the past,
But dearer—what shall ever last—
‘Twas Thine own heart that felt the need,
‘Twas Thine own hand the bread supplied.
‘Twas Thine own lips the blessing breathed—
Heart, hand, and lips the service weaved.
These were Thy sympathies with us,
And we shall ever know Thee thus.
‘Twas joy to Thee, while here on earth,
To mark the progress of that birth
Which leads poor sinners into light,
Forth from the gloom of nature’s night.
‘Twas joy to Thee while here on earth,
To hail the bold approach of faith,
The faith that reached Thee through the crowd,
Or, though forbidden, cried aloud.
For love delighteth to be used.
Faith’s earnest thoughts are ne’er refused.
And this same joy and love in Thee,
We know unchanged eternally.
The look, the sigh, the groan, the tear,
Which marked Thy spirit’s pathway here,
We own them still, O Lord, in Thee,
Thy mind, Thy heart, Thy sympathy!
Of Calvary I speak not here;
Blood sealed our only title there:
It has its own peculiar place
Amid the mysteries of grace.
But the loved home at Bethany,
And neighboring, lone Gethsemane,
Poor Nazareth and Bethlehem,
And faithless, proud Jerusalem,
The mount, the wilderness, the sea,
The villages of Galilee,
The gate of Nain, and Sychar’s well,
The coasts of Sidon, all will tell
The One who travelled here before,
And tell us we need ask no more,
But stand, with welcome, soon to be
At home forever, Lord, with Thee!
Thus, memory knows Thee, through the Word,
In all Thy ways and doings, Lord!
And memory no fiction weaves,
But turns to truthful, living leaves,
The footprints of a real past,
Which shine, and hold forever fast.
‘Tis not descriptive words of Thee,
But illustrations clear we see.
God’s glory in Thy face portrayed
Bright, living likeness without shade.
Those who see Thee the Father see
Wondrous and priceless mystery!
The heavens Creator-glory tell,
His power and Godhead they reveal;
But these are hints by which we frame
Some of the secrets of His name:
But all He is, by sinners known,
In one blessed Image He has shown.
We have not there to guess and spell,
We read in lines, fair, bright, and full;
We read it in our Saviour’s face,
And, now, all doubts and searchings cease.
The sinner looks, wayfaring men,
The poor, and babes and sucklings then;
All learn Thee as Thou art and wert,
And thus Thou art forever learnt.
Whate’er of Thine has once been shown,
That same is, sure, forever known
Thy virtues, like Thyself, all fair,
No seed of change or loss is there:
Each feature of Thy heart and mind
Forever shineth, in its kind:
“Because’tis Thine,” makes this all plain,
It must be still, for it has been:
“Jesus the same, and ours forever”—
No strength of hell this bond can sever.
But this we pray—for know we well
The world’s and nature’s dangerous spell,—
“Let no fair hope of human joy
The fond, desirous heart employ!
Let not the creature now repair
The breaches of each passing year!
With lamps still trimmed, and virgin love,
Teach us to wait Thee from above;
As bridal children, fasting here,
Till Thou, the Morning Star, appear,
To share with us that earliest light,
Day’s harbinger, so lone and bright;
Pledging, before long a world new-born,
Times of refreshing, like the morn.”
Thus may our hopes and fears be past,
And with Thyself our lot be cast!
Eye hath not seen, nor hath ear heard,
What Thou in glory hast prepared
For him who loves and waits for Thee
In thine own world with Thee to be;
With Thee, Who art no stranger here
Though we as yet be strangers, there.
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