"TILL HE COME!"
"Till 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 that rest above,
When their words of love and cheer
Fall no longer on our ear,
Hush! be ev'ry murmur dumb,
It is only "Till He come!"
Clouds and darkness 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,
Pain us only "Till He come!"
See, the feast of love is spread,
Drink the wine and eat the bread;
Sweet memorials, till the Lord
Call us round His heavenly board,
Some from earth, from glory some,
Severed only "Till He come!"
—E. W. Bickersteth.