He cometh-let not one withdraw,

Nor fear to bring repented sin; There's blood to wash, there's bread to feed, And Christ Himself to enter in.

And hymns of praise in Heaven above, And in our hearts repentant faith,

And love that springs to meet His love.

II.

O Jesu, bruised and wounded more
Than bursted grape, or bread of wheat;

The Life of Life within our souls,
The Cup of our Salvation sweet;

We come to show Thy dying hour,
Thy streaming vein, Thy broken flesh;
And still the blood is warm to save,
And still the fragrant wounds are fresh.

O Heart that, with a double tide

Of blood and

water, maketh pure; O Flesh once offered on the Cross,

The gift that makes our pardon sure :

Let never more our sinful souls

The anguish of Thy Cross renew; Nor forge again the cruel nails

That pierced Thy victim Body through.

Come, Bread of Heaven, to feed our souls, And with Thee, Jesu enter in;

Come, Wine of God, and as we drink

His precious blood, wash out our sin.

THE HOLY COMMUNION.

O Gospel like this Feast

Spread for Thy Church by Thee;
Nor prophet nor evangelist
Preach the glad news so free.

All our Redemption cost,

All our Redemption won;
All it has won for us, the lost,—

All it cost Thee, the Son;

Thine was the bitter price,

Ours is the free gift given; Thine was the Blood of Sacrifice, Ours is the wine of Heaven!

For Thee, the burning thirst,

The shame, the mortal strife,

The broken heart, the side transpierced;
To us, the Bread of Life!

To Thee, our curse and doom

Wrapt round Thee with our sin ;

The horror of that mid-day gloom, The deeper night within.

To us, Thy home in light,

Thy "Come, ye blessed, come! Thy bridal raiment pure and white, Thy Father's welcome home.

Here we would rest midway,
As on a sacred height,

That darkest and that brightest Day
Meeting before our sight;

From that dark depth of woes
Thy love for us hath trod,
Up to the heights of blest repose
Thy love prepares with God:

Till, from self's chains released,

One sight alone we see,
Still at the Cross, as at the Feast,

Behold Thee, only Thee!

THE COMPLETION OF THE SACRIFICE OF THE CROSS.

ERE it from my heart alone
Praise ascended to Thy throne,
Were there not within its shrine

More than earthly bread and wine,
Then, O then, it could not bless
Save by owning thanklessness.

Wake, my glory; wake, sweet string;
I myself will wake and sing;
Lo! my heart forgets its care,
For my love hath entered there,
And its only thought is this —
He is mine, and I am His!

What the fathers longed to see,
And the prophets' company,
What the holy kings long dead
Their true Crown had reckoned,