Let us adore th' eternal Word,
'Tis he our souls hath fed:
Thou art our living stream, O Lord,
And thou th' immortal bread.
[The manna came from lower skies,
But Jesus from above,
Where the fresh springs of pleasure rise,
And rivers flow with love.
The Jews, the fathers, died at last,
Who ate that heav'nly bread;
But these provisions which we taste
Can raise us from the dead.]
Blest be the Lord that gives his flesh
To nourish dying men;
And often spreads his table fresh,
Lest we should faint again.
Our souls shall draw their heav'nly breath
While Jesus finds supplies;
Nor shall our graces sink to death,
For Jesus never dies.
[Daily our mortal flesh decays,
But Christ our life shall come;
His unresisted power shall raise
Our bodies from the tomb.]