Beneath the forms of out­ward rite
Thy sup­per, Lord, is spread
In ev­ery qui­et up­per room
Where faint­ing souls are fed.

The bread is al­ways con­se­crate
Which men di­vide with men;
And ev­ery act of bro­ther­hood
Repeats Thy feast again.

The bless­èd cup is on­ly passed,
True me­mo­ry of Thee,
When life anew pours out its wine
With rich suf­fi­cien­cy.

O Mas­ter, through these sym­bols shared,
Thine own dear self im­part,
That in our da­ily life may flame
The pass­ion of Thy heart.