1 Beneath the forms of outward rite Thy supper, Lord, is spread In every quiet upper room Where fainting souls are fed. 2 The bread is always consecrate Which men divide with men; And every act of brotherhood Repeats Thy feast again. 3 The blessed cup is only passed True memory of Thee, When life anew pours out its wine With rich sufficiency. 4 O Master, through these symbols shared, Thine own dear self impart, That in our daily life may flame The passion of Thy heart.