Father, We Wait to Feel Thy Grace

Father

we wait to feel Thy grace

To see Thy glo­ries shine;

The Lord will His own ta­ble bless

And make the feast di­vine.

We touch

we taste the heav’n­ly bread

We drink the sac­red cup;

With out­ward forms our sense is fed

Our souls re­joice in hope.

We shall ap­pear be­fore the throne

Of our for­giv­ing God

Dressed in the gar­ments of His Son

And sprin­kled with His blood.

We shall be strong to run the race

And climb the up­per sky;

Christ will pro­vide our souls with grace

He bought a large sup­ply.

Let us in­dulge a cheer­ful frame

For joy be­comes a feast;

We love the me­mo­ry of His name

More than the wine we taste.