When glory crowned the mountain top,
And Christ was decked in garments fair,
The prophets of the Lord appeared,
And talked with the Redeemer there.
"Let us make this our dwelling-place,"
'Twas thus his followers made request;
"For it is good to linger here,
And they who dwell with Thee are blest."
Then from a cloud a voice was heard,
While each in terror held his breath,--
"This is My Own beloved Son,
Hear ye what the Belovéd saith."
Jesus, when Thy glory gilds
The mount of God whereon we meet,
May we the voice from Heaven discern,
And bow expectant at Thy feet.