Till He come we own His name, Round His table gathering; One in love and faith and hope, Waiting for an absent King. Blessed table, where the Lord Sets for us His choicest cheer; Angels have no feast like this, Angels wait, but sit not here.
Till He come we eat this bread, Seated round this heaven-spread board; Till He come we meet and feast, In remembrance of the Lord. In the banquet house of love, In the Bridegroom's garden fair; Thus we sit and feast and praise, — Angels look, but cannot share.
Till He come we take this cup, — Cup of blessing and of love; Till He come we drink this wine, Emblem of the wine above, — Emblem of the blood once shed, Blood of Him our sins who bare; Angels look, but do not drink, Angels never taste such fare.
Till He come, beneath the shade Of His love we sit and sing; Over us His banner waves, In His hall of banqueting. Happy chamber, where the Lord Spreads the feast with viands rare; Angels now are looking on, Angels serve, but cannot share.
Till He come, we wear the badge Of the ancient stranger-band; Leaning on our pilgrim-staff, Till we reach the glorious land. Homeless here, like Him we love, Watch we still in faith and prayer; Angels have no watch like ours, Angels have no cross to bear.
Till He come, we fain would keep These our robes of earth unsoiled; Looking for the festal dress, Raiment of the undefiled. Ha! these robes of purest light, Fairest still among the fair! Angels gaze, but cannot claim, — Angels no such raiment wear.
Till He come we keep this feast, Emblem of the feast above; Marriage-supper of the Lamb, Festival of joy and love. Angels hear the bridal-song, Angels set the festal fare; Angels hear, but cannot join; Angels wait, but cannot share.