1 Till he come! O let the words
Linger on the trembling chords;
Let the little while between
In their golden light be seen;
Let us think how heav'n and home
Lie beyond that "Till he come."

2 When the weary ones we love
Enter on their rest above,
Seems the earth so poor and vast,
All our life-joy overcast?
Hush, be every murmur dumb:
It is only till he come.

3 Clouds and conflicts 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 heav'nly board;
Some from earth, from glory some,
Severed only till he come.

Amen.