Hymns on the Lord's Supper, 98

Where shall this memorial end?
Thither let our souls ascend,
Live on earth to heaven restored,
Wait the coming of our Lord.

Jesus terminates our hope,
Jesus is our wishes' scope;
End of this great mystery,
Him we fain would die to see.

He whom we remember here,
Christ shall in the clouds appear;
Manifest to every eye,
We shall soon behold Him nigh.

Faith ascends the mountain's height,
Now enjoys the pompous sight,
Antedates the final doom,
Sees the Judge in glory come.

Lo, He comes triumphant down,
Seated on His great white throne!
Cherubs bear it on their wings,
Shouting bear the King of kings.

Lo, His glorious banner spread
Stains the skies with deepest red,
Dyes the land, and fires the wood,
Turns the ocean into blood.

Gather'd to the well-known sign,
We our elder brethren join,
Swiftly to our Lord fly up,
Hail Him on the mountain-top;

Take our happy seats above,
Banquet on His heavenly love,
Lean on our Redeemer's breast,
In His arms for ever rest.