'My blood is drink indeed.'
-John vi. 55.
When Asia's mighty conqueror died,
His followers shared his realm:
Yet, O how soon did ruin's tide
Them and their thrones o'erwhelm!
Had every monarch from his throne
By Jesus' arm been hurled;
Had he, the conqueror, held alone
The sceptre of the world;-
Had his Apostles shared the globe;
Had all the Orient gems,
That deck the royal Persian's robe,
Blazed on their diadems;-
Throned on the Egyptian's pyramid,
Old Time had seen their power
All crumble, as the Grecian's did,
And wither like a flower.
This Jesus knew; and, ere the thorns
Around his head were pressed,
The banquet which this board adorns
He spread for all, and blessed.
Then gave he gems of hope to shine
Around this goblet's brim;
Then dropped a pearl into this wine,-
The Memory of Him.