After Brother Brawn, the beginning of the meeting was well over. We knew that the great moments were drawing near. A deeper silence filled the little room: the hush of pure holiness. There was a prayer or two, and then we sang the Bread hymn. Usually this one:
Through Thy precious body broken
Inside the veil.
Oh, what words to sinners spoken—
Inside the veil.
Precious, as the blood that bought us;
Perfect, as the love that sought us;
Holy, as the Lamb that brought us;
Inside the veil.
When we see Thy love unshaken,
Outside the camp.
Scorn'd by man, by God forsaken,
Outside the camp.
Thy loved cross alone can charm us;
Shame doth now no more alarm us;
Glad we follow, nought can harm us;
Outside the camp.
Lamb of God! through Thee we enter
Inside the veil.
Cleansed by Thee, we boldly venture
Inside the veil.
Not a stain; a new creation;
Ours is such a full salvation!
Low we bow in adoration,
Inside the veil.
Unto Thee, the homeless stranger,
Outside the camp.
Forth we hasten, fear no danger,
Outside the camp.
Thy reproach far richer treasure
Than all Egypt's boasted pleasure;
Drawn by love that knows no measure,
Outside the camp.
Soon Thy saints shall all be gathered,
Inside the veil.
All at home, no more be scattered,
Inside the veil.
Nought from Thee our hearts shall sever,
We shall see Thee, grieve Thee never;
"Praise the Lamb!" shall sound for ever
Inside the veil.
We sang it to a slow drawling tune, incommunicably dreary.
Pentecost arose, white and priestly. "Little children, every time I come to this Table, I come with a joy, a peace and a gratitude that are ever new. My heart is too full of love for my Saviour for any words of mine to tell you. Let us bear in mind, little children, rather His own precious words: This is my Body, which is given for you."
As he ceased, Brother Brawn arose from his seat at the right of the Table, took each of the loaves, held them sacrificially aloft, broke them in twain. One plate he himself passed round among the Saints, Brother Browning the other. I watched with evergreen curiosity and reverence how each Saint broke off a piece of bread and with closed eyes slowly munched it away. Once in a way the impious thought seized me that 'twas all farce, mummery, tomfoolery: this chewing of dough. The next instant I would flush crimson to have let such wickedness find place for an instant in my mind: I would look and behold the rapture on the munching faces; and understand beyond all doubting that here was something mystical, magical, holy. I could see that those who took bread obtained thereby some supernal joy that I was too young or too sinful to share. It could not be tomfoolery if it gave you the rapture I could see on the faces around me. Besides, Jesus had ordained it.
Another silence—the middle space of the double sacrifice—ere we sang the Wine hymn: