1 Sing, my tongue, the Savior’s glory,
Of his flesh the myst'ry sing:
Of the Blood, all price exceeding,
Shed by our immortal King,
Destined for the world’s redemption,
From a noble womb to spring.
2 Of a pure and spotless virgin
Born for us on earth below,
He, as man, with us conversing,
Stayed, the seeds of truth to sow;
Then he closed in solemn order
Wondrously his life of woe.
3 On the night of that last supper,
Seated with his chosen band,
He, the Paschal victim eating,
First fulfills the Law’s command;
Then as food, to the disciples
Gives himself with his own hand.
4 Word made flesh, the bread of nature
By his word to flesh he turns;
Wine into his blood he changes:
What though sense no change discerns?
Only be the heart in earnest,
Faith its lesson quickly learns.
5 Down in adoration falling,
This great sacrament we hail;
Over ancient forms of worship
Newer rites of grace prevail;
Faith tells us that Christ is present,
When our human senses fail.
6 To the everlasting Father,
And the Son who made us free,
And the Spirit, God proceeding
From them each eternally,
Be salvation, honor, blessing,
Might and endless majesty.
Source: Breaking Bread (Vol. 39) #25
|First Line:||Sing, my tongue, the Savior's glory, Of his flesh the mystery sing|