This day <br />We sing <br />The friend of our eternal King: <br />Who in His bosome lay. <br />And kept the keys <br />Of His profound and glorious mysteries: <br />Which to the world dispensèd by his hand, <br />Made it stand <br />Fix'd in amazement to behold that light <br />Which came <br />From the throne of the Lamb, <br />To invite <br />Our wretched eyes—which nothing else could see <br />But fire, and sword, hunger and miserie— <br />To anticipate by their ravish'd sight <br />The beauty of celestial delight. <br />Mysterious God, regard me when I pray: <br />And when this load of clay <br />Shall fall away, <br />O let Thy gracious hand conduct me up, <br />Where on the Lamb's rich viands I may sup: <br />And in this last Supper I <br />May with Thy friend in Thy sweet bosome lie <br />For ever in Eternity. <br />Allelujah.<br /><br />Jeremy Taylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-hymn-upon-st-john-s-day/
