by Horatius Bonar

(Written in the 18th century, concerning the Lord’s Supper)


Here, O my Lord, I see Thee face to face;
Here would I touch and handle things unseen,
Here grasp with firmer hand thy eternal grace,
And all my weariness upon Thee lean.

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 sins forgiven.

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 brief bright hour of fellowship with Thee.

Too soon we rise; the symbols disappear;
The feast, though not the Love, is past and gone;
The bread and wine removed, but thou are here,
Nearer than ever; still my Shield and Sun.

Mine is the sin, but Thine is 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.

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.