When in our breasts we feel the flame of love,
Kindled by heaven, becoming dim and low,
When cold our feelings are to God above,
Unsympathizing to His poor below,
When kindness seems a task, and words impatient flow;
How shall we cherish love’s declining light?
By drawing forth from memory’s treasure-cave
The recollection of that mournful night
When Jesus to the flock He died to save
Gave His last mild commands, His parting blessing gave.