Break ye the bread, and pour the wine,
As ye have seen your Master do;
This body and this blood of mine
Is broken thus and shed for you.'
Yes, mighty God! while life remains,
We will remember him who bled;
Whom Death, in his cold, palsying chains,
A captive and a victim led.
We will remember him, by whom
Those strong and icy chains were riven;
Who scattered round his opening tomb
Their broken links,-and rose to heaven.
And, while with gratitude we dwell
On all his tears of love and woe,
Let death's chill tide before us swell!
Let its still waters darkly flow!
We 'll give our bodies to the stream;
'T will bear us-(for the dead shall rise,
Or faith is vain, and hope a dream,)-
To happier shores and brighter skies.