Hymns on the Lord's Supper, 2

In this expressive bread I see
The wheat by man cut down for me,
And beat, and bruised, and ground:
The heavy plagues, and pains, and blows,
Which Jesus suffer'd from His foes,
Are in this emblem found.

The bread dried up and burnt with fire
Presents the Father's vengeful ire,
Which my Redeemer bore:
Into His bones the fire He sent,
Till all the flaming darts were spent,
And Justice ask'd no more.

Why hast Thou, Lord, forsook Thine own?
Alas! what evil hath He done,
The spotless Lamb of God?
Cut off, not for Himself, but me,
He bears my sins on yonder tree,
And pays my debt in blood.

Seized by the rage of sinful man
I see Him bound, and bruised, and slain
Tis done, the Martyr dies!
His life to ransom ours is given,
And lo! the fiercest fire of heaven
Consumes the Sacrifice.

He suffers both from man and God,
He bears the universal load
Of guilt and misery;
He suffers to reverse our doom;
And lo! my Lord is here become
The Bread of Life to me.