Words: , 1895.

Music: Trans­fig­ur­a­tion (Ank­e­tell), John An­ke­tell, 1895.


Lord Jesus, on the holy mount
We would abide with Thee,
Still drinking from the blessèd fount
Of grace, so rich and free.

There prophets praise Thy glorious Name,
And deeds which Thou hast done;
And there the Father’s words proclaim
His own belovèd Son.

The rays of Thy transfigured face
Beam with such golden light
That we would never leave the place,
Nor lose the heavenly sight.

But there is work on earth to do,
The suffering soul to heal;
The harvest great, the laborers few
Thy kingdom to reveal.

We may not linger on the mount,
Where bright Thy glories shine;
We may not taste the sacred fount
Of blessedness divine.

But let some beams of heavenly light
Make bright our earthly way;
Then grant the beatific sight
Of heaven and endless day.