Classic Poem

The hour is come; the feast is spread:
Behold My body given;
Behold My life-blood freely shed
To ransom souls for heaven.

When of this cup I drink again,
In glory and with you,
No tears its perfect joy shall stain,
A joy for ever new.

Ere then ten thousand thousand times
My table shall be spread,
And countless souls in distant climes
Be comforted and fed.

Grace, mercy, peace be multiplied
To those who commune there:
While seated by My Father's side
Their mansions I prepare.

But now these lips a different cup
For you must taste and drain,
And unrepiningly drink up
The dregs of bitter pain.

The griefs ye know not that are Mine,
Nor yet My glories see;
But break the bread and drink the wine,
And thus remember Me.