683. C. M. Dale.
Christ Blessing the Bread.
1Behold, amid his little flock,
The Saviour stands serene,
Unawed by suffering yet to be,
Unchanged by what hath been.
2Still beams the light of love undimmed
In that benignant eye,
Nor, save his own prophetic word,
Aught speaks him soon to die.
3He pours within the votive cup
The rich blood of the vine,
And "Drink ye all the hallowed draught,"
He cries, "This blood is mine."
4He breaks the bread; then clasps his hands,
And lifts his eyes in prayer,
Receive ye this and view by faith
My body symbolled there.