1 Lord, may the spirit of this feast—
The earnest of Thy love—
Maintain a dwelling in our breast,
Until we meet above.

2 The healing sense of pardoned sin,
The hope that never tires,
The strength a pilgrim’s race to win,
The joy that Heav’n inspires.

3 Still may their light our duties trace
In lines of hallowed flame,
Like that upon the prophet’s face,
When from the mount he came.

4 But if no more with kindred dear
The broken bread we share,
Nor at the banquet board appear
To breathe the grateful prayer:

5 Forget us not—when on the bed
Of dire disease we waste,
Or to the chambers of the dead,
And bar of judgment haste.

6 Forget not—Thou who bore the woe
Of Calvary’s fatal tree—
Those who within these courts below
Have thus remembered The