O Christ, Thou Hast Ascended

O Christ

Thou hast as­cend­ed

Triumphantly on high!

By cher­ub guards at­tend­ed

And ar­mies of the sky:

Let earth tell forth the sto­ry—

Our ve­ry flesh and bone

Immanuel

in glo­ry

Ascends His Fa­ther’s throne.

Heaven’s gates un­fold ab­ove Thee:

But canst Thou

Lord

for­get

The lit­tle band who love Thee

And gaze from Ol­iv­et?

Nay

on Thy breast engrav­en

Thou bear­est ev­ery name

Our priest in earth and Heav­en

Eternally the same.

There

there Thou stand­est plead­ing

The vir­tue of Thy blood

For sin­ners in­ter­ced­ing

Our ad­vo­cate with God:

And ev­ery change­ful fa­shion

Of our brief joys and cares

Finds thought in Thy com­pas­sion

And ec­ho in Thy pray­ers.

O for the price­less mer­it

Of Thy re­deem­ing cross!

Vouchsafe Thy sev­en­fold spir­it

And turn to gain our loss;

Till we by strong en­dea­vor

In heart and mind as­cend

And dwell with Thee for­ev­er

In rap­tures with­out end.