What GOD Does in the Bread and Wine

1.

O the depth of love di­vine,

Th’unfathomable grace!

Who shall say how bread and wine

God in­to us con­veys!

How the bread His flesh im­parts,

How the wine tran­smits His blood,

Fills His faith­ful people’s hearts

With all the life of God!

2.

Let the wis­est mor­tals show

How we the grace re­ceive;

Feeble ele­ments be­stow

A pow­er not theirs to give.

Who ex­plains the won­drous way,

How through these the vir­tue came?

These the vir­tue did con­vey,

Yet still re­main the same.

3.

How can spir­its heav’n­ward rise,

By earth­ly mat­ter fed,

Drink here­with di­vine sup­plies

And eat im­mor­tal bread?

Ask the Fa­ther’s wis­dom how:

Christ who did the means or­dain;

Angels round our al­tars bow

To search it out, in vain.

4.

Sure and re-al is the grace,

The man­ner be un­known;

Only meet us in Thy ways

And per­fect us in one.

Let us taste the heav’n­ly pow­ers,

Lord, we ask for no­thing more.

Thine to bless, ’tis on­ly ours

To won­der and adore.

--  Charles Wesley 

Morning Hymn

1.

Christ, whose Glory fills the Skies,

   Christ, the true, the only Light,

Sun of Righteousness, arise,

   Triumph o'er the Shades of Night:

Day-spring from on High, be near:

Day-star, in my Heart appear.

 

2.

Dark and Cheerless is the Morn

   Unaccompanied by Thee,

Joyless is the Day's Return,

   Till thy Mercy's Beams I see;

Till thy inward light impart,

Glad my Eyes, and warm my Heart.

 

3. 

Visit then this Soul of mine,

   Pierce the Gloom of Sin, and Grief,

Fill me, Radiancy Divine,

   Scatter all my Unbelief,

More and more Thyself display,

Shining to the Perfect Day.

-- Charles Wesley, "Morning Hymn" from Hymns and Sacred Poems. (London: W. Strahan, 1740)

Bishop Doane on His Dog

I am quite sure he thinks that I am God--

since he is God on whom each one depends

for life, and all things that His bounty sends--

my dear old dog, most constant of all friends;

not quick to mind, but quicker far than I

to Him whom God I know and own; his eye,

deep brown and liquid, watches for my nod;

he is more patient underneath the rod

than I, when God His wise corrections sends.

He looks love at me, deep as words e'er spake;

and from me never crumb nor sup will take

but he wags thanks with his most vocal tail;

and when some crashing noise wakes all his fear,

he is content and quiet, if I am near,

secure that my protection will prevail.

So, faithful, mindful, thankful, trustful, he

tells me what I unto my God should be.

by George Washington Doane

Psalm 126

When her sons from bonds redeeming 

GOD to Zion led the way, 

we were like to people dreaming 

thoughts of bliss too bright to stay. 

Fill'd with laughter, stood we gazing,

loud our tongues in rapture sang; 

quickly with the news amazing 

all the startled nations rang. 

"See Jehovah's works of glory! 

Mark what love for them he had!" 

"Yes, for us! Go tell the story. 

This was done, and we are glad." 

LORD! thy work of grace completing 

all our exiled hosts restore, 

as in thirsty channels meeting 

southern streams refreshing pour. 

They that now in sorrow weeping 

tears and seed commingled sow, 

soon, the fruitful harvest reaping, 

shall with joyful bosoms glow. 

Tho' the sower's heart is breaking, 

bearing forth the seed to shed, 

he shall come, the echoes waking, 

laden with his sheaves instead. 

--William Digby Seymour 1882