Ah ! well might he upon Christ's bosom leaning
The chosen few above,
Declare the truth, with zeal not overweening,
That God, our God, is love.

Our God is love: his smile clothes earth in beauty,
And robes it with delight;
And every heart that heeds the call of duty
That love shall clothe in white.

Fair as the morning is the soul that loveth
All things below, above,
Which he the wise and holy One, approveth,
Growing like him in love.

Our God is love, when fair and fragrant flowers
Our daily pathway strew,
From his hand falling like the summer showers,
Or like the gentle dew.

Aye, God is love, e'en when the crashing thunder
Follows the lightning's stroke;
E'en when the ties of earth are rent asunder,
And human hearts are broke.

Then let us trust him, and our love be showing
By deeds of love to all,
Forever in his blessed likeness growing,
Till we shall hear Death's call.

And when the parted veil opes to our vision,
These truths all thought above,
Amid the bliss which fills the fields elysian,
We'll echo, “God is love.”