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!
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!