WITHIN an upper chamber, At evening of the day, We gathered for an hour; And one said, "Let us pray." We came with stains of conflict, With dust of earthly care; Our hearts were spent and weary, Till Jesus met us there. We heard no blare of trumpets, We saw no blaze of light, As silently the Master Came through the summer night. Yet was that upper chamber With love divinely filled; Our hearts grew strong with gladness, In that dear presence thrilled. The air was soft with blessing; And as we sang the hymn, Its notes were lifted higher By listening seraphim. We told our want and yearning, We told our lonely pain, Ere from that upper chamber We sought the world again. But sweet and close and tender, In every tranquil breast, We bore a thought of Jesus— Our own, our peace, our rest. We might have wished to linger A little longer there; But life is full of duty, And work is wrought by prayer. To-day, through strife and turmoil, Our eyes shall look above, Where, in an upper chamber, Abides the Lord we love. |