O food that weary pilgrims love,
O bread of angel hosts above,
O manna of the saints,
The hungry soul would feed on Thee;
Ne’er may the heart unsolaced be
Which for Thy sweetness faints.

O fount of love, O cleansing tide,
Which from the Savior’s piercèd side
And sacred heart dost flow,
Be ours to drink of Thy pure rill,
Which only can our spirits fill,
And all our need bestow.

Lord Jesu, whom, by power divine
Now hidden ’neath the outward sign,
We worship and adore,
Grant, when the veil away is rolled,
With open face we may behold
Thyself forevermore.