Classic Poem

HYMN XXXI.

Lord, thou hast treated us
With true and living bread;
Thy body, as upon the cross,
The painful cross, it bled.

Thy blood's a precious wine,
The heart of God it chears;
With heav'nly sweets, and joys divine,
It calms our guilty fears.

A living spring thy side,
Thy pierc'd side did impart,
Thro which a vital juice did glide
Down from thy melting heart.

This crimson stream, with those
Thy hands and feet did yield,
A bath for sinners does compose,
In which they're cleans'd and heal'd.

Such blessings, Lord, in thee,
If at thy cross we meet,
What joys will in thy kingdom be,
Joys how divinely sweet!

When thou with glory crown'd,
Thy saints on thrones wilt place,
And satiate all thy guests around
With th' vision of thy face.

From that blest paradise
None e'er shall be exil'd;
None by a serpent's tempting voice,
Of joy and life beguil'd.

The tree of life shall chase
Death thence, and all its fears:
Rivers of pleasure there have place,
And there are none of tears.