Hymns on the Lord's Supper, 73

Is not the cup of blessing, blest
By us, the sacred means to' impart
Our Saviour's blood, with power imprest
And pardon to the faithful heart?

Is not the hallow'd broken bread
A sure communicating sign,
An instrument ordain'd to feed
Our souls with mystic flesh Divine?

The' effects of His atoning blood,
His body offer'd on the tree,
Are with the awful types bestow'd
On me, the pardon'd rebel, me;

On all who at His word draw near,
In faith the outward veil look through:
Sinners, believe, and find Him here;
Believe, and feel He died for you.

In memory of your dying God,
The symbols faithfully receive,
And eat the flesh and drink the blood
Of Jesus, and for ever live.