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 ev'ry 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.
|First Line:||"Till he come"! O let the words|
|Title:||"Till He Come"!|
|Author:||Edward H. Bickersteth (1862)|
|Topic:||Funerals; Heaven: Anticipated|
|Composer:||Richard Redhead (1853)|