3 Too soon we rise; the symbols disappear;
The feast, though not the love, is passed and gone:
The bread and wine remove, but thou art here—
Nearer than ever—still my Shield and Sun.
4 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.
545
H. M.