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 consecrate
that friend divides with friend;
each act of true community
repeats thy feast again.
3 The blessed cup is only passed
true memory of thee,
when life anew 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 passion of thy heart.