On the first Christian Sabbath eve,
When His disciples met,
O'er His lost fellowship to grieve,
Nor knew the Scriptures yet.
Lo, in their midst His form was seen,
The form in which He died,--
Their Master's marr'd and wounded mien,
His hands, his feet, his side.
Then were they glad their Lord to know,
And worshipp'd, yet with fear;
Jesus, again Thy presence show;
Meet Thy disciples here.
Be in our midst;--let faith rejoice
Our risen Lord to view,
And make our spirits hear Thy voice,
Say, "Peace be unto you."
Then, while we hearken, O unfold
The Scriptures to our mind:
Their mysteries let us now behold;
Their hidden treasures find.
Thee it behoved to suffer thus,
And to Thy glory rise;
Instruct, confirm, and strengthen us,
And make Thy servants wise;--
Wise to win souls, may we reveal
Thy love to all around,
And in ourselves its influence feel
Yet more and more abound.
And while with thee, in social hours,
We commune through Thy word,
May our hearts burn, and all our powers
Confess, "It is the Lord."
Sacred Poems and Hymns