Sunday Hymn: Here, O My Lord, I See Thee Face to Face

Here, O my Lord, I see Thee face to face;
Here would I touch and han­dle things un­seen;
Here grasp with firm­er hand eter­nal grace,
And all my wea­ri­ness up­on Thee lean.

Here would I feed upon the bread of God,
Here drink with Thee the roy­al wine of Heav’n;
Here would I lay aside each earth­ly load,
Here taste afresh the calm of sin for­giv­en.

This is the hour of ban­quet and of song;
This is the heav­en­ly ta­ble spread for me;
Here let me feast, and feast­ing, still pro­long
The hal­lowed hour of fel­low­ship with Thee.

Too soon we rise; the sym­bols dis­ap­pear;
The feast, tho’ not the love, is past and gone.
The bread and wine re­move; but Thou art here,
Nearer than ev­er, still my shield and sun.

I have no help but Thine; nor do I need
Another arm save Thine to lean up­on;
It is enough, my Lord, enough in­deed;
My strength is in Thy might, Thy might alone.

I have no wis­dom save in Him who is
My wis­dom and my teach­er both in One;
No wis­dom can I lack while Thou art wise;
No teach­ing do I crave save Thine alone.

Mine is the sin, but Thine the right­eous­ness:
Mine is the guilt, but Thine the cleans­ing blood;
Here is my robe, my re­fuge, and my peace;
Thy blood, Thy right­eous­ness, O Lord my God!

I know that dead­ly ev­ils com­pass me,
Dark per­ils threat­en, yet I would not fear,
Nor poor­ly shrink, nor feeb­ly turn to flee,
Thou, O my Christ, art buck­ler, sword and spear.

But see, the pil­lar cloud is ris­ing now,
And mov­ing on­ward thro’ the des­ert night;
It beck­ons, and I fol­low, for I know
It leads me to the her­it­age of light.

Feast af­ter feast thus comes and pass­es by;
Yet, pass­ing, points to the glad feast ab­ove,
Giving sweet fore­taste of the fes­tal joy,
The Lamb’s great brid­al feast of bliss and love.

—Horatius Bonar