Classic Poem

Lift me, Lord Jesus, for the time is nigh
When I must climb unto thy cross at last;
The world fades out, its lengthening shadows fly,
Earth's pomp is passing and the music past;
Phantoms flock round me, multiplying fast;
Nothing seems tangible; the good I thought
Most permanent hath perished. Come away,
O sated spirit, from the vacant scene;
The curtain drops upon the spun-out play,
The benches are deserted. Let us go,
Forget the foolish clown, the king, the queen,
The idle story with its love and woe;
I seem to stand before a minster screen
And hear faint organs in the distance blow.