When in our breasts we feel the flame of love,
Kindled by heaven, becoming dim and low,
When cold our feelings are to God above,
Unsympathizing to His poor below,
When kindness seems a task, and words impatient flow;
How shall we cherish love’s declining light?
By drawing forth from memory’s treasure-cave
The recollection of that mournful night
When Jesus to the flock He died to save
Gave His last mild commands, His parting blessing gave.
Muse on the solemn scene, till faith have power
The inspired narrative to realize;
And round the board at evening’s silent hour
The chosen twelve appear, their anxious eyes
Fixed on the Lamb of God, the spotless Sacrifice.
Lo! on the bread His sacred hand he lays,
That hand so soon transfixed for them to be;
See the Redeemer’s sad uplifted gaze,
And hear the accents breathing mournfully,
“This do ye in remembrance still of Me!”
Nor this the sole command by Christ then given
To His disciples, loved unto the last,
At that sad meeting, when the Lord of Heaven
Beheld death’s awful hour approaching fast,
The cross—the anguish which all mortal woe surpassed;
When He surveyed His small devoted band,
And all that He for them would suffer knew,
The Saviour breathed that heavenly command,
That bond of union to His faithful few,
“Love one another e’en as I have loved you.”
As I have loved you. Oh! more than love,—
Language can breathe, and thought conceive no more;
It is not “as thyself”—this mounts above
All human feeling, bids us higher soar,
Gaze on the cross, and feel the love a Saviour bore!
And can we ever rudely tear aside
The band Messiah twined around His own?
Envy, resentment, petulance, or pride,
Erase the mark by which His flock are known?
Hath Christ ne’er loved us, to us no mercy shown?