Say to the owner of the house, Luke 22:11
The Teacher asks,
Where is the guest room in which I may eat the Passover with My disciples?
Words: Christopher Wordsworth, The Holy Year (London: Rivingtons, 1862), number 42.
Son of God, Incarnate Word,
Thou the Source, and only Thou
Art the fountain, whence, O Lord,
Pardon, grace, and glory flow;
God in Man, we have from Thee
Life and immortality.
On Thy Passion’s holy eve
Thou a last bequest didst give,
Whence we might the fruits receive
Of Thy death, and by it live:
Christ is in us, we in Christ,
In the Holy Eucharist.
There Thou ever feeding art
Faithful souls with heav’nly food;
There Thyself Thou dost impart,
And dost cleanse us with Thy blood:
There the cloud with manna teems,
There the rock with water streams.
Faith, O Lord, Thee present sees
In Thy holy mysteries;
Faith, O Lord, there touches Thee
With devout humility;
There the heart the virtue feels
Which from Thee flows forth, and heals.
All unworthy, Lord, are we—
Sinners, in a sullied dress—
But we come, that we may be
Vested in Thy worthiness.
Graciously receive us, Lord,
Meekly coming at Thy word.
Thou wert in a manger laid,
And wilt not our hearts despise;
He who humbly to Thee prayed
Went with Thee to paradise;
Take and eat, Thou, Lord, dost say;
Drink ye all; we, Lord, obey.
Now, O Lord, we fear not death,
We in Thee, and in us Thou,
Thou our life-blood, Thou our breath;
Gates of hell are conquered now;
Christ who triumphed o’er the grave
Is omnipotent to save.
Now we, Lord, Thy temples are,
Now we peace and pardon find,
Bond of love and balm of care,
Courage, health, and light of mind.
Pledge of resurrection see,
Hope of blest eternity.
Grant us penitential love,
Give us faith to feed on Thee;
Send Thy Spirit from above,
That we, Lord, may welcomed be,
When from earthly toils released,
At Thy heav’nly marriage feast.