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 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!"
Source: Moravian Book of Worship #413