Our Lord Jesus at his own table[The memory of our dying
Awakes a thankful tongue:
How rich he spread his royal board,
And blessed the food, and sung!
Happy the men that eat this bread;
But doubly blest was
That gently bowed his loving head,
And leaned it,
Lord, on thee.
By faith the same delights we
As that great favorite did;
And sit and lean on Jesus' breast,
And take the heav'nly bread.]Down from the palace of the skies,
Hither the King descends:"Come, my beloved, eat," he cries;"And drink salvation, friends.["My flesh is food and physic too,
A balm for all your pains;
And the red streams of pardon
From these my pierced veins."]Hosannah to his bounteous
For such a taste below!
And yet he feeds his saints
With nobler blessings too.[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' heav'nly feast.]
