1 At Thy command, our dearest Lord,
Here we attend Thy dying feast;
Thy blood, like wine, adorns the board,
And Thine own flesh feeds every guest.

2 Our faith adorns Thy bleeding love,
And trusts for life in one that died;
We hope for heavenly crowns above
From a Redeemer crucified.

3 Let the vain world pronounce it shame,
And fling their scandals on the cause;
We come to boast our Savior’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.