Author: Stennett Meter: 8.6.8.6 Appears in 158 hymnals First Line: Here at thy table, Lord, we meet Lyrics: 1 Here at thy table, Lord, we meet
To feed on food divine;
Thy body is the bread we eat,
The 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 The bitter torments he endur'd
Upon the shameful cross,
For us, his welcome guests, procur'd
These heart-reviving joys.
4 His body torn with rudest hands,
Becomes the finest bread;
And with the blessing he commands,
Our noblest hopes are fed.
5 His blood that from each opening vein
In purple torrents ran,
Hath fill'd this cup with gen'rous wine,
That cheers both God and man.
6 Sure there was never love so free,
Dear Saviour, so divine!
Well thou may'st claim that heart of me,
Which owes so much to thine.
7 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. Topics: Lord's Supper
My Flesh is Meat indeed