1 Too soon we rise; the symbols disappear;
The feast, though not the love, is past and gone.
The bread and wine remove, but Thou art here,
Nearer than ever,—still my Shield and Sun.
2 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 mighty—Thy might alone.
3 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.
4 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.
5 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.
Source: Hymns of the Kingdom of God: with Tunes #441