III A halo rests upon Thy brow,
A halo rests upon Thy brow,
O Saviour of the sons of men;
For Thou art crowned a Victor now;—
But Thou wilt come to us again.
Thou hast a thought for those who tread
The steeps of life, and often fail[
The weak in faith lift up the head,
And in Thy strength, O Christ, prevail.
Thou art not far removed from those,
That yearn for Thee, and seek Thy grace;
Who in Thy tender love repose,
May hear Thy voice, and see Thy face;—
And know the love that giveth rest,
And share its strength, and feel its glow;
As he who leaned upon Thy breast,
When Thou wert with us, long ago.
But hearts are sad, and lives are lone,
They long for Thee, who love Thee most;
Even when Thy promised Gift they own,—
The comfort of the Holy Ghost.
Thou art our Faith, our Hope, our Love,
O Lover of the souls of men;
Bow down Thy heavens, and from above,
Come, Blessed Lord, to us again.