1 [The memory of our dying Lord
Awakes a thankful tongue:
How rich he spread his royal board,
And blest the food, and sung.
2 Happy the men that eat this bread,
But double bless'd was he
That gently bow'd his loving head,
And lean'd it, Lord, on thee.
3 By faith the same delights we taste
As that great favourite did,
And sit and lean on Jesus' breast,
And take the heavenly bread.]
4 Down from the palace of the skies,
Hither the King descends;
|Come my beloved, eat, (he cries)
|And drink salvation, friends.
5 |[My flesh is food and physic too,
|A balm for all your pains;
|And the red streams of pardon flow
|From these my pierced veins.|]
6 Hosanna to his bounteous love
For such a taste below!
And yet he feeds his saints above
With nobler blessings too.
7 [Come the dear day, the glorious hour
That brings our souls to rest!
Then we shall need these types no more,
But dwell at th' heavenly feast.]