A Hymn of Praise after the Sacrament

WIth precious Food, Lord, we are fed,
Which we have cause to prize;
Our Table is most richly spread
With choice Varieties.

The harmless Lamb most innocent
For us is ready slain,
And we as Guests are hither sent
To seed on him again.

But O what Love and Grace is here!
When we were hungry,
Christ's Body, Lord, thou didst prepare
That for us he might die;

For nothing but his Flesh and Blood
Could our poor Souls sustain;
Therefore, O Lord, thou didst cry forth,
O let my Lamb be slain.

O let his precious Blood run out,
For to them it I'll give,
Or else they'll perish without doubt;
'Tis done; Come, eat, and live!

Eat, eat, O Friends, on what is good,
And drink abundantly;
The best of Heav'n is your Food,
No fatness I deny.

O Lord, thy Love is very sweet,
And we therefore do cry,
O feed us with this precious Food
Untill we come to die.

And we will sing thy Praises, Lord,
Even both rich and poor;
And to the blessed Lamb we'll sing
Praises for evermore.