1 At thy command, our dearest Lord, Here we attend thy dying feast; Thy blood like wine adorns thy board, And thine own flesh feeds every guest.
2 Our faith adores thy bleeding love, And trusts for life in one that dy'd; We hope for heavenly crowns above From a Redeemer crucify'd.
3 Let the vain world pronounce it shame, And fling their scandals on thy cause; We come to boast our Saviour's Name, And make our triumphs in his cross.
4 With joy we tell the scoffing age He that was dead has left his tomb, He lives above their utmost rage, And we are waiting till he come.