Oh, to have heard that hymn
Float through the chamber dim,
Float through that “upper room,”
Hushed in the twilight gloom!
Up the dark, starry skies
Rolled the deep harmonies;—
Angels who heard the strain,
How ran the high refrain?
How rose the holy song?
Triumphant, clear, and strong,
As a glad bird uplift
Over the wild sea-drift?
Or was its liquid flow
Tremulous, sad, and slow—
Presage and prophecy
Of lone Gethsemane?
Was it a lofty psalm,
Foretelling crown and palm?
Soared it to heights of prayer
On the still, vibrant air?
When the last feast was spread,
And the last words were said,
Sang the Lord Christ the hymn
In the old chamber dim?