We leave Thy house, but leave not Thee, For Thou wilt ever with us be; For time nor space can us divide, Or take us from our Shepherd's side. Thy flock we are: Thy house our fold Where we together Thee behold; Yet, when we scatter o'er life's fields, Thy presence sweet communion yields. The Upper Room has not decayed, Each stone has now a million made; In every land disciples meet, And see Thy wounded hands and feet. Though lamps go out, and home we turn, We feel our hearts within us burn; And, day far spent, the very street Rings, like Emmaus, with Thy feet.
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