How blest a home—the Father’s house, There love divine doth rest; What else could satisfy the hearts Of those in Jesus blest? His home made ours—His Father’s love Our heart’s full portion given, The portion of the firstborn Son, The full delight of heaven. Oh, what a home! The Son who knows, He only—all His love; And brings us as His well-beloved To that bright rest above, Dwells in His bosom—knoweth all That in that bosom lies, And came to earth to make it known, That we might share His joys. Oh, what a home! There fullest love Flows through its courts of light; The Son’s divine affections flow Throughout its depth and height. And full response the Father gives, To fill with joy the heart— No cloud is there to dim the scene Or shadow to impart. Oh, what a home! But such His love That He must bring us there, To fill that home, to be with Him, And all His glory share. The Father’s house, the Father’s heart, All that the Son is given Made ours—the objects of His love And He, our joy in heaven.