�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 Heaven and home
Lie beyond that, �Till He come.�

When the weary ones we love
Enter on their rest above,
Seems the earth so poor and vast,
All our life joy overcast?
Hush, be every murmur dumb;
It is only, �Till He come.�

Clouds and conflicts round us press;
Would we have one sorrow less?
All the sharpness of the cross,
All that tells the world is lost,
Death and darkness, and the tomb,
Only whisper, �Till He come.�

See, the feast of love is spread,
Drink the wine, and break the bread;
Sweet memorials, till the Lord
Calls us round His heavenly board;
Some from earth, from glory some
Severed only, �Till He come.�