Here, O my Lord, I see Thee face to face;
Here would I touch and handle things unseen;
Here grasp with firmer hand the eternal grace,
And all my weariness upon Thee lean.
This is the hour of banquet and of song
This is the heavenly table spread for me;
Here let me feast, and feasting, still prolong
The ballowed hour of fellowship with Thee.
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 belp 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.
Mine is the sin, but thine the righteousness:
Mine is the guilt, but thine the cleansing blood
Here is my robe, my refuge, and my peace;
Thy Blood, thy righteousness, O Lord my God!
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 bere,
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 foretaste of the festal joy,
The Lamb’s great bridal feast of bliss and love.