The Supper And The Advent





Till He come we own His name,

Round His table gathering;

One in love and faith and hope,

Waiting for an absent King.

Blessed table, where the Lord

Sets for us His choicest cheer;

Angels have no feast like this,

Angels wait, but sit not here.



Till He come we eat this bread,

Seated round this heaven-spread board;

Till He come we meet and feast,

In remembrance of the Lord.

In the banquet house of love,

In the Bridegroom's garden fair;

Thus we sit and feast and praise,--

Angels look, but cannot share.



Till He come we take this cup,--

Cup of blessing and of love;

Till He come we drink this wine,

Emblem of the wine above,--

Emblem of the blood once shed,

Blood of Him our sins who bare;

Angels look, but do not drink,

Angels never taste such fare.



Till He come, beneath the shade

Of His love we sit and sing;

Over us His banner waves,

In His hall of banqueting.

Happy chamber, where the Lord

Spreads the feast with viands rare;

Angels now are looking on,

Angels serve, but cannot share.



Till He come, we wear the badge

Of the ancient stranger-band;

Leaning on our pilgrim-staff,

Till we reach the glorious land.

Homeless here, like Him we love,

Watch we still in faith and prayer;

Angels have no watch like ours,

Angels have no cross to bear.



Till He come, we fain would keep

These our robes of earth unsoiled;

Looking for the festal dress,

Raiment of the undefiled.

Ha! these robes of purest light,

Fairest still among the fair!

Angels gaze, but cannot claim,--

Angels no such raiment wear.



Till He come we keep this feast,

Emblem of the feast above;

Marriage-supper of the Lamb,

Festival of joy and love.

Angels hear the bridal-song,

Angels set the festal fare;

Angels hear, but cannot join;

Angels wait, but cannot share.





The Redemption Of The Purchased Possession The Ten Virgins Or The Midnight Cry facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmail

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