112
POEMS.
He takes the bread, a blessing craves
In tones more sweet and clear
Than ever fell from human lips,
Or broke on mortal ear.
In tones more sweet and clear
Than ever fell from human lips,
Or broke on mortal ear.
There lingers on the hallowed air
A voice, 'tis Mercy's own;
And while they breathless pause to hear
The stranger-Guest is flown.
A voice, 'tis Mercy's own;
And while they breathless pause to hear
The stranger-Guest is flown.
But ever in their glowing hearts,
Did they the story bear
Of a risen Saviour's dying love,
That day recorded there.
Did they the story bear
Of a risen Saviour's dying love,
That day recorded there.
