Bread of the world, in mercy broken,
Wine of the soul, in mercy shed,

Brightest and best of the sons of the morning!
Dawn on our darkness and lend us Thine aid!

Incarnate Word, who, wont to dwell
In lowly shape and cottage cell,

Jerusalem, Jerusalem!  enthroned once on high,
Thou favored home of God on earth, thou heaven below the sky,

Lord of mercy and of might,
of mankind the life and light,

Lord, whose love, in power excelling,
Washed the leper's stain away,

 Lord! whose love, in power excelling,
      Wash’d the leper’s stain away,

O more than merciful!  whose bounty gave
Thy guiltless self to glut the greedy grave,

O, Saviour, is thy promise fled?
No longer might thy grace endure,

Oh Saviour, whom this holy morn
      Gave to our world below;

'Sit thou on my right hand, my Son!' saith the Lord.
'Sit thou on my right hand, my Son,

The Lord of might from Sinai’s brow
Gave forth his voice of thunder;

The Lord will come! the earth shall quake,
The hills their fixèd seat forsake;

There was joy in Heaven,
There was joy in Heaven,

To conquer and to save, the Son of God
Came to his own in great humility,

Wake not, O Mother, sounds of lamentation;
Weep not, O widow, weep not hopelessly:

By cool Siloam's shady rill
How fair the lily grows!

Lo, the lilies of the field,
How their leaves instruction yield!

Life nor Death shall us dissever
From his love who reigns for ever.

Though sorrows rise and dangers roll
In waves of darkness o'er my soul,

The feeble pulse, the gasping breath,
The clenched teeth, the glazed eye,

God is gone up with a merry noise
Of saints that sing on high:

Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty!
Early in the morning our song shall rise to thee;

In the sun and moon and stars
Signs and wonders there shall be;

O blest were the accents of early creation,
When the Word of Jehovah came down from above:

O Thou, whom neither time nor space
Can circle in, unseen, unknown,

O, Saviour of the faithful dead,
With whom thy servants dwell,

Room for the proud!  Ye sons of clay,
From far his sweepin pomp survey,

Thou art gone to the grave; but we will not deplore thee,
Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb:

The world is grown old, and her pleasures are past,
The world is grown old, and her form may not last;

Creator of the rolling flood!
On whom thy people hope alone;

Forth from the dark and stormy sky,
Lord, to Thine altar’s shade we fly;

From foes that would the land devour,
From guilty pride and lust of power,

When through the torn sail the wild tempest is streaming,
When o’er the dark wave the red lightning is gleaming,

Hosanna to the living Lord!
Hosanna to the Incarnate Word!

I praised the earth, in beauty seen
With garlands gay of various green;

O Captain of God’s host, whose dreadful might
Led forth to war the armèd seraphim,

O God, my sins are manifold, against my life they cry,
And all my guilty deeds foregone, up to thy temple fly;
Wilt thou releast my trembling soul, that to despair is driven?
'Forgive!' a blessed voice replied, 'and thou shalt be forgiven.'

My foemen, Lord, are fierce and feel, they spurn me in their pride,
They render evil for my good, my patience they deride;
Arise, O King, and be the proud to righteous ruin driven.
'Forgive!' an awful answer came, 'as thou would'st be forgiven.'

Seven times, O Lord, I pardoned them, seven times they sinned again:
They practise still to work me woe, they triumph in my pain;
But let them dread my vengeance now, to just resentment driven.
'Forgive!' the voice of thunder spake, 'or never be forgiven.'

O God, that madest earth and sky, the darkness and the day,
Give ear to this thy family, and help us when we pray.

O, hand of bounty, largely spread,
By whom our every want is fed,

O most merciful!
O most bountiful!

O Thou, who gav’st Thy servant grace
On Thee the living Rock to rest,

O, King of earth and air and sea,
The hungry ravens cry to thee;

Spirit of Truth, on this thy day
To thee for help we cry;

When spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing soil;
When summer’s balmy showers refresh the mower’s toil;

Beneath our feet and o'er our head
Is equal warning given;

From Greenland’s icy mountains,
    From India’s coral strand,

O God, by whom the seed is given;
By whom the harvest blesssed;

The God of Glory walks his round,
From day to day, from year to year,

The Son of God goes forth to war,
A kingly crown to gain;