HERE, O my Lord, I see Thee face to face;
Here faith can touch and handle things unseen;
Here would I grasp with firmer hand Thy grace, And all my weariness upon Thee lean.
Here would I feed upon the Bread of God;
Here drink with Thee the royal wine of heaven;
Here would I lay aside each earthly load,
Here taste afresh the calm of sin forgiven.
I have no help but Thine; nor do I need
Another arm save Thine to lean upon;
It is enough, my Lord, enough indeed;
My strength is in Thy might, Thy might alone.
Too soon we rise; the symbols disappear;
The feast, though not the love, is past and gone, The bread and wine remove, but Thou art here, Nearer than ever, still my shield and sun.
Feast after feast thus comes and passes by;
Yet passing points to the glad feast above,
Giving sweet foretastes of the festal joy,
The Lamb's great bridal feast of bliss and love.
He come '-Oh! let the words
Linger on the trembling chords;
Let the little while between
In their golden light be seen;
Let us think how heaven and home
Lie beyond that ‘Till He come.'
When the weary ones we love
Enter on their rest above,
Seems the earth so poor
All our life-joy overcast?
Hush! be every murmur dumb:
It is only, Till He come.'
Clouds and conflicts round us press;
Would we have one sorrow less?
All the sharpness of the Cross,
All that tells the world is loss,
Death, and darkness, and the tomb
Only whisper, Till He come.'
See the feast of love is spread ;
Drink the wine, and break the bread,
Sweet memorials, till the Lord
Call us round His heavenly board;
Some from earth, from glory some,
Severed only 'Till He come.'
BY Christ redeemed, to God restored,
We keep the memory adored,
And show the death of our dear Lord,
Until He come.
His body slain upon the tree,
His life-blood, shed for us, we see;
Thus faith shall read the mystery,
Until He come.
And thus His dark betrayal night
With His last Advent we unite
By one bright chain of loving rite,
Until He come :
Until the trump of God be heard,
Until the ancient graves be stirred,
And, with the great commanding word,
The Lord shall come.
O blessed hope! With this elate
Let not our hearts be desolate,
But, strong in faith and patience, wait
Until He come.
AUTHOR of life divine,
Who hast a Table spread,
Furnished with mystic Wine
And everlasting Bread,
Preserve the life Thyself hast given,
And feed and train us up for heaven.
Our needy souls sustain.
With fresh supplies of love,
Till all Thy life we gain,
And all Thy fulness prove,
And, strengthened by Thy perfect grace,
Behold without a veil Thy face.
READ of Heaven, on Thee we feed,
For Thy flesh is meat indeed;
Ever may our souls be fed
With this true and living Bread,
Day by day with strength supplied
Through the life of Him who died.
Vine of Heaven, Thy blood supplies
This blest cup of sacrifice;
'Tis Thy wounds our healing give;
To Thy Cross we look and live:
Thou our life! O let us be
Rooted, grafted, built on Thee.
ORD, Whose temple once did glisten
With a monarch's rich supplies,
To our humbler praises listen,
Bless our willing sacrifice.
Be our freewill offering, given
To the Father and the Son,
Sweeter in the sight of heaven
Than the scents of Lebanon.
Clouds and darkness veiled Thy dwelling
In Thy chosen house of old,
Though the hymn of praise was swelling
'Mid the pomp of Ophir's gold:
Here Thy love our hearts shall brighten;
Hence, ye earth-born clouds, away!
Here Thy Spirit shall enlighten,
Shining to the perfect day.
When our Israel's sore transgression
Stops the windows of the sky;
When we sink beneath oppression,
When we see our thousands die ;
Father, when we here adore Thee,
In Thy house our prayer receive;
When we spread our hands before Thee,
Here behold us, and forgive.
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