IT was His wish that they
Should meet Him there,
The day, the spot, the hour,
Were all His care.
He longed once more to be
Amongst His own,
And He must have them there
With Him alone.
The temple ritual past,
With all its wealth:
Not to a “place” they come,
But to Himself.
The Son of God is there,
And naught beside,
They, won by perfect love,
Are satisfied.
What can they do but praise
When at His feet?
Their hearts had never known
A place more sweet.
Illumined by His love
That mountain-side,
Blest trysting-place to those
For whom He died.