1 "Till He come," O let the words
Linger on the trembling chords;
Let the little while between
In their golden light be seen;
Let us think how heaven and home
Lie beyond that "Till he come."

2 When the weary ones we love
To the silent land remove,
Though the earth seems poor and waste,
All our life-joy overcast,
Hush! be every murmur dumb;
It is only "Till he come."

3 Clouds and conflicts round us press;
Would we have one sorrow less?
All the sharpness of the cross,
All that tells the world is loss,
Death, and darkness, and the tomb,
Only whisper "Till he come."