1 Here, O my Lord, I see Thee face to face;
Here faith can touch and handle things unseen;
2 Here would I feed upon the Bread of God;
Here drink with Thee the royal wine of heav'n;
3 I have no help but Thine; nor do I need
Another arm save Thine to lean upon;
4 This is the hour of banquet and of song;
This is the heav'nly table spread for me;
5 Too soon we rise; the symbols disappear;
The feast, though not the love, is past and gone;
6 Feast after feast thus comes and passes by,
Yet passing, points to the glad feast above,