Hymns on the Lord's Supper, 44

Our Passover for us is slain,
The tokens of His death remain,
On these authentic signs imprest:
By Jesus out of Egypt led,
Still on the Paschal Lamb we feed,
And keep the sacramental feast.

That arm that smote the parting sea
Is still stretch'd out for us, for me;
The Angel-God is still our Guide,
And, lest we in the desert faint,
We find our spirits' every want
By constant miracle supplied.

Thy flesh for our support is given,
Thou art the Bread sent down from heaven,
That all mankind by Thee might live;
O that we evermore may prove
The manna of Thy quickening love,
And all Thy life of grace receive!

Nourish us to that awful day
When types and veils shall pass away,
And perfect grace in glory end;
Us for the marriage feast prepare,
Unfurl Thy banner in the air,
And bid Thy saints to heaven ascend.