Till He come! Oh, let the words
152
7.7.7.7.7.7. 1 “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!” 2 When the weary ones we love Enter on their rest above, Seems the world so poor and vast? All our life-joy overcast? Hush! be every murmur dumb, It is only “Till He come!” 3 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, Only whisper, “Till He come!” 4 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!” Bishop Bickersteth