The day is done; thick falls the dew
Of night on Olivet. Hark! to the tread
Of weary feet! ‘tis Jesus comes to seek,
As He is wont, the friendly shelter,
Where nightly, “ alone, yet not alone,”
That “ Man of sorrows” holds communion
With His God. He was that lowly One
Who had not where to lay His head;
Yet legions minister to Him unseen
By human eye, whilst the high
Heavens canopy His sacred head,
And myriad stars illuminate The night.
And what communion
Occupies the Father and the Son
‘Tis man’s redemption!
None hut Himself, the
Lord of glory, could
Such a work achieve. Out of the
Mighty depths of love that none
Can fathom till we shall know
As we are known, it came! and
Nobly, “It is finished.”
Look upward, blood-bought children!
See where Jesus has from Olivet ascended,
Waiting the glorious dawning when
He shall come to meet us in the air!
Once more shall those same
Sacred feet stand on thy very heights,
Mount Olivet, a spectacle to wondering
And expecting gaze. Oh, sight of
Glory marvelous beyond compare!
Surely our faith then will confess,
“ The half had not been told.”
Keep us, Lord Jesus, by Thy Spirit,
Gazing at heaven’s high portals
From, as it were, our Olivet of faith,
Till we shall see Thee, and
Be like Thee, and forever
With Thee, Lord.
Α. Μ. H.