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Here, O my Lord, I see Thee face to face; Here would I touch and handle things unseen; Here grasp with firmer hand 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 hallowed 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 help 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 here, 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.

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