227. My Flesh is Meat indeed

1 Here at thy table, Lord, we meet
To feed on food divine:
Thy body is the bread we eat,
Thy precious blood the wine.

2 He that prepares this rich repast,
Himself comes down and dies;
And then invites us thus to feast
Upon the sacrifice.

3 His body torn with rudest hands
Becomes the finest bread;
And, with the blessing he commands,
Our noblest hopes are fed.

4 His blood, that from each op'ning vein
In purple torrents ran,
Hath fill'd this cup with gen'rous wine,
That cheers both God and man.

5 Sure there was never love so free,
Dear Savior, so divine!
Well thou may'st claim that heart of me,
Which owes so much to thine.

6 Yes, thou shalt surely have my heart,
My soul, my strength, my all;
With life itself I'll freely part,
My Jesus, at thy call.

Text Information
First Line: Here at thy table, Lord, we meet
Title: My Flesh is Meat indeed
Meter: C. M.
Language: English
Publication Date: 1845
Scripture:
Topic: Means of Grace: The Lord's Supper
Tune Information
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