[We sing th' amazing deeds

That grace divine performs;

Th eternal God comes down and bleeds

To nourish dying worms.

This soul-reviving wine,

Dear Savior, is thy blood;

We thank that sacred flesh of thine

For this immortal food.]

The banquet that we eat

Is made of heav'nly things;

Earth has no dainties half so sweet

As our Redeemer brings.

In vain had Adam sought

And searched his garden round;

For there was no such blessed fruit

In all that happy ground.

Th' angelic host above

Can never taste this food;

They feast upon their Maker's love,

But not a Savior's blood.

On us th' almighty Lord

Bestows this matchless grace,

And meets us with some cheering word,

With pleasure in his face.

Come, all ye drooping saints,

And banquet with the King;

This wine will drown your sad complaints,

And tune your voice to sing-

Salvation to the name

Of our adored Christ!

Through the wide earth his grace proclaim,

His glory in the high'st.