Where'er I be, Lord, spread for me Thy table with its holy fare, Then, though my lot be slenderness, And my tent but the wilderness, Full amply plenished I shall be, Since Thou art there. And wilt Thou break the bread for me? For me pour out the sacred wine? And as we eat and drink wilt Thou Renew in me the holy vow, And fill me with new love for Thee, Since I am Thine? Not the spread table, nor the wine, Nor the sweet breaking of the bread, That makes the feast, -- but that we meet Together here in commune sweet With Thee, and by Thy Grace Divine, We all are fed. And when we leave Thy table, Lord, And go into the world again, Help us to carry with us there The savour of that holy fare, And prove the virtue of The Word To other men. |