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