This is the feast of heav’n­ly wine,
And God in­vites to sup;
The juic­es of the liv­ing vine
Were pressed, to fill the cup.

Oh, bless the Sav­ior, ye that eat,
With roy­al dain­ties fed;
Not Heav’n af­fords a cost­li­er treat,
For Je­sus is the bread!

The vile, the lost, He calls to them,
Ye trembling souls appear!
The right­eous, in their own es­teem,
Have no ac­cept­ance here.

Approach ye poor, nor dare re­fuse
The ban­quet spread for you;
Dear Sav­ior, this is wel­come news,
Then I may ven­ture too.

If guilt and sin af­ford a plea,
And may ob­tain a place;
Surely the Lord will wel­come me;
And I shall see His face.