By Christ re­deemed, in Christ re­stored,
We keep the me­mo­ry ad­ored,
And show the death of our dear Lord,
Until He come.

His body brok­en in our stead
Is here in this me­mo­ri­al bread,
And so our fee­ble love is fed
Until He come.

The streams of His dread ag­ony,
His life blood shed for us, we see;
The wine shall tell the mys­te­ry
Until He come.

And thus that dark be­tray­al night
With the last ad­vent we unite
By one blest chain of lov­ing rite
Until He come.

Until the trump of God be heard,
Until the an­cient graves be stirred,
And, with the great com­mand­ing word,
The Lord shall come.

O bless­èd hope! with this elate
Let not our hearts be de­so­late,
But, strong in faith, in pa­tience wait
Until He come.