|
|
|
|
|
|
Submitted by admin on Sun, 09/19/2010 - 22:01
|
1
Beneath the forms of outward rite
Thy supper, Lord, is spread
In every quiet upper room
Where fainting souls are fed.
2
The bread is always conscreate
Which men divide with men;
And every act of brotherhood
Repeats Thy feast again.
3
The blessed cup is only passed
True memory of Thee,
When life a new pours out its wine
With rich sufficiency.
4
O Master, through these symbols shared,
Thine own dear self impart,
That in our daily life may flame
The passionof Thy heart. |
|
<!--Clear -->
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
