Lord, at Thy Table I Behold

Lord

at Thy ta­ble I be­hold

The won­ders of Thy grace;

But most of all ad­mire that I

Should find a wel­come place.

I

that am all de­filed with sin

A re­bel to my God;

I

that have cru­ci­fied His Son

And tram­pled on His blood.

What strange

sur­pris­ing grace is this

That such a soul has room!

My Sav­ior takes me by the hand

My Je­sus bids me come.

Eat

O My friends

the Sav­ior cries

The feast was made for you;

For you I groaned

and bled

and died

And rose

and tri­umphed

too.

With trem­bling faith

and bleed­ing hearts

Lord

we ac­cept Thy love;

’Tis a rich ban­quet we have had

What will it be above?

Ye saints be­low

and hosts of Heav­en

Join all your prais­ing powers;

No theme is like re­deem­ing love

No Sav­ior is like ours.

Had I ten thou­sand hearts

dear Lord

I’d give them all to Thee;

Had I ten thou­sand tongues

they all

Should join the har­mo­ny.