Monday in Easter Week

'Abide with us,' the shades of eve
Are falling fast around;
‘Far spent' the day — O do not leave
The souls Thy Love has found.

We lost Thee in an hour of fear,
Thy words of love forgot;
Once more that blessed Voice we hear,
O Saviour leave us not.

Too cold, too sad, too slow of heart
We wander'd here alone,
And where Thou wert, not where Thou art,
Was all our souls would own.

Alas! that we should e'er forget
The hope Thy sufFrings gave,
'Thine agony and bloody sweat,'
The Garden, Cross, and Grave, —

Or lose amid their gloom the pure
Perfection of that joy,
No clouds of grief should e'er obscure,
No cross or grave destroy.

But Thou art come to us again, —
Our souls so dull and sad
Thou c madest soft with drops of rain,'
And now with sunshine glad.

Then O ' abide with us,' nor leave
Those whom Thy love hath found,
For life is wearing — shades of eve
Are falling fast around.

The solemn joy, the awful fear,
The hallow'd hush of peace,
The consciousness that Thou art near,
We would not these should cease.

They came to us with glad accord
This blessed Easter-tide,
They will ' abide with us' O Lord,
If Thou with us abide.