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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.