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,