“He is not here!” the One my heart loves best,
Then can I join the giddy thoughtless throng,
Who heedless of His absence careless rest,
Or fete that absence with gay mirth and song?
No! He is gone! and not the brightest ray
Can gild the scene to me while He’s away.
“He is not here!” I want Him every hour;
My soul would weary of His long delay,
Save that like perfume from a hidden flower,
The fragrance of His spices cheers the way;
Yet fills my heart with more desire to prove
The fullness of Thy presence Lord above.
March 24, 1876.