5 He is our light; our morning star Shall shine on nations yet unknown; The glory of thine Israel here, And joy of spirits near the throne. Hymn 3:15. Our Lord Jesus at his own table. 1 [The memory of our dying Lord Awakes a thankful tongue: How rich he spread his royal board, And blest the food, and sung. 2 Happy the men that eat this bread, But double bless'd was he That gently bow'd his loving head, And lean'd it, Lord, on thee. 3 By faith the same delights we taste As that great favourite did, And sit and lean on Jesus' breast, And take the heavenly bread.] 4 Down from the palace of the skies, Hither the King descends; "Come my beloved, eat, (he cries) "And drink salvation, friends. 5 "[My flesh is food and physic too, "A balm for all your pains; "And the red streams of pardon flow "From these my pierced veins."] 6 Hosanna to his bounteous love For such a taste below! And yet he feeds his saints above With nobler blessings too. 7 [Come the dear day, the glorious hour That brings our souls to rest! Then we shall need these types no more, But dwell at th' heavenly feast.] Hymn 3:16. The agonies of Christ. 1 Now let our pains be all forgot, Our hearts no more repine, Our sufferings are not worth a thought, When, Lord, compar'd with thine. 2 In lively figures here we see The bleeding Prince of love; Each of us hope he dy'd for me, And then our griefs remove. 3 [Our humble faith here takes her rise, While sitting round his board; And back to Calvary she flies, To view her groaning Lord. 4 His soul, what agonies it felt When his own God withdrew! And the large load of all our guilt Lay heavy on him too. 5 But the divinity within Supported him to bear: Dying he conquer'd hell and sin, And made his triumph there.] 6 Grace, wisdom, justice join'd and wrought The wonders of that day: No mortal tongue, nor mortal thought Can equal thanks repay. 7 Our hymns should sound like those above, Could we our voices raise; Yet, Lord, our hearts shall all be love, And all our lives be praise. Hymn 3:17. Incomparable food; or, The flesh and blood of Christ. 1[We sing th' amazing deeds That grace divine performs; Th' eternal God comes down and bleeds To nourish dying worms. 2 This soul reviving wine, Dear Saviour, 'tis thy blood; We thank that sacred flesh of thine For this immortal food.] 3 The banquet that we eat Is made of heavenly things, Earth hath no dainties half so sweet As our Redeemer brings. 4 In vain had Adam sought And search'd his garden round, For there was no such blessed fruit In all the happy ground. 5 Th' angelic host above Can never taste this food, They feast upon their Maker's love, But not a Saviour's blood. 6 On us th' Almighty Lord Bestows this matchless grace, And meets us with some cheering word, With pleasure in his face. 7 Come, all ye drooping saints, And banquet with the King, This wine will drown your sad complaints, And tune your voice to sing.