I SEEK thy table, Lord,
To break my bread with thee;
Yet still afar, past hill and star
It vanishes from me.
Though folk along the way
Call it an idle dream,
By sea and sedge, at earth’s faint edge,
Ever I see it gleam.
There thy beloved are,
Close gathered, soul to soul;
And there thy face, in hallowed space,
Shines as my distant goal.
Late, weary and forspent,
I near the holy spot,
Where they are met, thy table set,
But still I find thee not.
They pledge their fellowship
In words that are not thine;
Though here they sup, with sacred cup,
Not this thy bread and wine.
Ah, Lord, the nations yearn
To gather at thy feet;
Thou bidst to feast both great and least
With simple words and sweet.
Our faith — that love enfold
The living and the dead;
Our creed — a prayer that thou be there
To share the wine and bread.