The death of Jesus Christ, our Lord,We celebrate with one accord;It is our comfort in distress,Our heart’s sweet joy and happiness.
He blotted out with His own bloodThe judgment that against us stood;He full atonement for us made,And all our debt He fully paid.
That this is now and ever trueHe gives an earnest ever new:In this His holy supper hereWe taste His love so sweet, so near.
His Word proclaims, and we believe,That in the supper we receiveHis very body, as He said,His very blood for sinners shed.
A precious food is this indeed—It never fails us in our need—A heavenly manna for our soul.Until we safely reach our goal.
Oh, blest is each believing guestWho in this promise finds his rest;For Jesus will in love abideWith those who do in Him confide.
The guest that comes with true intentTo turn to God and to repent,To live for Christ, to die to sin,Will thus a holy life begin.
They who His Word do not believeThis food unworthily receive,Salvation here will never find—May we this warning keep in mind!
Help us sincerely to believeThat we may worthily receiveThy supper and in Thee find rest.Amen, he who believes is blest.
Thou Whom my soul admires aboveAll earthly joy and earthly love,Tell me, dear Shepherd, let me know,Where do Thy sweetest pastures grow?
Where is the shadow of that rockThat from the sun defends Thy flock?Fain would I feed among Thy sheepAmong them rest, among them sleep.
Why should Thy bride appear like oneThat turns aside to paths unknown?My constant feet would never rove,Would never seek another love.
The footsteps of Thy flock I see;Thy sweetest pastures here they be;A wondrous feast thy love prepares,Bought with Thy wounds, and groans, and tears.
His dearest flesh He makes my food,And bids me drink His richest blood:Here to these hills my soul will come,Till my Belovèd lead me home.