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The holy feast is spread again,
And all are gathered there,
And to the altar's foot they press
With reverence and with prayer,
Young heads of bright and sunny locks,
And those of silvery hair:
Age, youth, and beauty, side by side,
Commemorate the crucified.
THE ABSENT COMMUNICANT.
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The holy feast is spread again,
And all are gathered there,
And to the altar's foot they press
With reverence and with prayer,
Young heads of bright and sunny locks,
And those of silvery hair:
Age, youth, and beauty, side by side,
Commemorate the crucified.
I hear in thought the organ's tone,
Its rich harmonious swell,
The plaintive hymn breathed forth again,
Of Jesus' love to tell,
The pastor's voice of kind regard,
Beloved so long and well,
Then see the sacred symbols given,
And mortals eat the bread of heaven.
Its rich harmonious swell,
The plaintive hymn breathed forth again,
Of Jesus' love to tell,
The pastor's voice of kind regard,
Beloved so long and well,
Then see the sacred symbols given,
And mortals eat the bread of heaven.
In thought, alas! in thought alone,—
I may not kneel to-day,
Among that band of worshippers,
Or in that temple pray,
Or taste with them that blessed food,
Strength for life's pilgrim way:
The holy feast is spread, and prayer
Ascends, but one is absent there.
I may not kneel to-day,
Among that band of worshippers,
Or in that temple pray,
Or taste with them that blessed food,
Strength for life's pilgrim way:
The holy feast is spread, and prayer
Ascends, but one is absent there.
The church bells have been ringing out
With their enlivening tone,
And yet within my chamber's bound,
All silent and alone,
I sit to muse upon the past,
The hours for ever flown,
When through the sacred aisle I trod,
To bow within the house of God.
With their enlivening tone,
And yet within my chamber's bound,
All silent and alone,
I sit to muse upon the past,
The hours for ever flown,
When through the sacred aisle I trod,
To bow within the house of God.
And as the weary hart doth pant,
For water-courses fair,
I long to reach the holy fane,
And pay my homage there,
And with God's people kneel me down,
Forgetting earthly care:
It may not be—my heart be still,
And bend thee to Jehovah's will.
For water-courses fair,
I long to reach the holy fane,
And pay my homage there,
And with God's people kneel me down,
Forgetting earthly care:
It may not be—my heart be still,
And bend thee to Jehovah's will.
Thou, who in desert mountains 1one,
Did'st hie where none might see,
To pour thy soul in secret prayer,
And bend the suppliant knee,
And ask thy Father's pardoning love
For guilty ones like me;—
Give me thy presence, though alone
I bow before thy glorious throne.
Did'st hie where none might see,
To pour thy soul in secret prayer,
And bend the suppliant knee,
And ask thy Father's pardoning love
For guilty ones like me;—
Give me thy presence, though alone
I bow before thy glorious throne.
Saviour, be with me: may thy love
Light up my path to-day,
And may thy Spirit's power divine
My every action sway;
Bless thou this sacred Sabbath time,
Although alone I pray,
And lift my soul, and cheer my heart,
When from thy people far apart.
Light up my path to-day,
And may thy Spirit's power divine
My every action sway;
Bless thou this sacred Sabbath time,
Although alone I pray,
And lift my soul, and cheer my heart,
When from thy people far apart.