Lord, may the spirit of this feast—

The earnest of thy love—

Maintain a dwelling in our breast

Until we meet above.

2 The healing sense of pardoned sin,

The hope that never tires,

The strength a pilgrim’s race to win,

The joy that heaven inspires:

3 Still may their light our duties trace

In lines of hallowed flame,

Like that upon the prophet’s face,

When from the mount he came.

4 But if no more with kindred dear

The broken bread we share,

Nor at the banquet board appear

To breathe the grateful prayer;

5 Forget us not—when on the bed

Of dire disease we waste,

Or to the chambers of the dead,

And bar of judgment haste.

6 Forget not—thou who bore the woe

Of Calvary’s fatal tree—

Those who within these courts below

Have thus remembered thee.