The day wears on to ev­en­tide,
His re­sur­rect­ion day;
Emmaus bound, two friends, in grief
Begin their home­ward way.
In brok­en words they tell it o’er—
All, all their bit­ter loss:
The riv­en rocks, the op­ened graves,
The dark­ness of the cross.

O sor­row-la­den hearts! ye walk
Still on­ward in the gloom,
Who yet be­lieve your ris­en Lord
Is laid in Jo­seph’s tomb.
We trust­ed that it had been He!
(So hope will strive with fear);
And while they thus of Him com­mune,
Jesus Him­self draws near.

Jesus Him­self, and yet un­known!
Thus, in His love and pow­er,
He ev­er meets the sor­row­ful
In sor­row’s dark­est hour.
O Mas­ter! As we jour­ney on,
From morn till ev­en­tide,
This, on­ly this, we ask: to know
Thee ev­er by our side!

Still on the high­way side of time
That voice be­loved to hear,
That sym­pa­thy di­vine—to know
Jesus Him­self draws near!
What if our eyes are hold­en, still
Thy face we may not see?
Dost Thou not with Thy breth­ren walk,
Whene’er they talk of Thee?

Why are ye sad? So gra­cious­ly
He makes their cares His own;
Each hu­man sigh finds ec­ho there,
Before His Fa­ther’s throne!
Our friend draws near, walks by our side
Into the twi­light dim;
And though the night of grief be dark,
Its sha­dow falls on Him.

O Lord! In all our jour­ney­ing
Thy pre­sence we dis­cern,
And while we walk and talk with Thee,
Our hearts with­in us burn.
To know Thee, Lord! know more and more,
The won­der of Thy grace;
Bring us, one day, to talk with Thee,
And see Thee face to face!