Sing, My Tongue, the Savior’s Glory

Sing

my tongue

the Sav­ior’s glo­ry

Of His flesh the mys­te­ry sing

Of the blood

all price ex­ceed­ing

Shed by our im­mor­tal king

Destined

for the world’s re­demp­tion

From a no­ble womb to spring.

Of a pure and spot­less vir­gin

Born for us

His love to show

He

as man

with man con­vers­ing

Stayed

the seeds of truth to sow;

Then He closed in won­drous fa­shion

This His life on earth be­low.

On the night of that last sup­per

Seated with His chos­en band

He

the pas­chal vic­tim eat­ing

First ful­fills the law’s com­mand;

Then as food to all His breth­ren

Gives Him­self with His own hand.

Christ

the Word made flesh

by speak­ing

Earthly bread to flesh He turns;

Wine be­comes His blood so pre­cious—

Unconceived in hu­man terms!

Hearts sin­cere per­ceive this mar­vel;

Faith its les­sons quick­ly learns.

Down in ad­or­ation fall­ing

This great sac­ra­ment we hail;

Over an­cient forms of wor­ship

Newer rites of grace pre­vail;

Faith tells us that Christ is pre­sent

When our hu­man sens­es fail.

To the ev­er­last­ing Fa­ther

And the Son who made us free

And the Spir­it

God pro­ceed­ing

From them each eter­nal­ly

Be sal­va­tion

hon­or

bless­ing

Might and end­less ma­jes­ty.