A Halo Rests upon Thy Brow

A halo rests up­on Thy brow

O Sav­ior 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;

E’en 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 heav’ns

and from ab­ove

Come

bless­èd Lord

to us again.