W. Garrett Horder, comp. The Poets’ Bible: New Testament. 1895.
So sadly lost, so strangely found!
Once more I touch, once more I twine
My arms those sacred Feet around.
Hold Thee I must; for much I fear me,
That but for this enforced delay,
Elijah-like, Thy God will bear thee
I know not whither, far away.
As those white-robed Angels come,
To do some deed of wrath or love,
Then spread their wings in haste for home.
Not yet unto My Throne ascended—
Unloose thy grasp; such fears are vain:
Depart, and ere My Work is ended
Thou shalt behold My Face again.
But wastes the hour of loving deeds,
And all thou valuest so much,
While yet we linger, useless speeds,
Go, bid My Brethren haste before Me,
Hence to their native Galilee,
There shall thy Lord ascend in Glory,
And they My Heavenward flight shall see.
Absent, I shall be with thee still;
My Flesh to eat, My Blood to drink,
My Spirit in thy heart to dwell.
I go unto our common Father;
Yet in My Name, in mutual prayer,
Whenever two or three shall gather,
There shall they meet and touch Me there.