Hymns in commemoration of the sufferings of Our Blessed Saviour Jesus Christ compos'd for the celebration of His Holy Supper / by Joseph Stennett.

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Title: Hymns in commemoration of the sufferings of Our Blessed Saviour Jesus Christ compos'd for the celebration of His Holy Supper / by Joseph Stennett.
Author: Stennett, Joseph, 1663-1713.
Publication: London :: Printed by J. Darby for Andr. Bell...,; 1697.
Rights/Permissions: To the extent possible under law, the Text Creation Partnership has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above, according to the terms of the CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication (http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/). This waiver does not extend to any page images or other supplementary files associated with this work, which may be protected by copyright or other license restrictions. Please go to http://www.textcreationpartnership.org/ for more information.
Subject terms: Lord's Supper.; Hymns, English.
Cite this Item: "Hymns in commemoration of the sufferings of Our Blessed Saviour Jesus Christ compos'd for the celebration of His Holy Supper / by Joseph Stennett." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A61411.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed May 6, 2024.

YOU who our LORD's great Banquet share,
And welcome Places find
His Table round, his Praises sound
With well-tun'd Voice and Mind.

Remember all his Acts of Love,
His Torments every one:
Whom Angels fear'd, him Mortals jeer'd,
Blasphem'd, and spat upon.

See 's Head all torn with Thorns, his Face
(Divinely bright before)
Now marr'd more than the Sons of Men;
Reaking with Sweat and Gore.

See cruel Nails in 's Hands and Feet,
Piercing the tender Veins:
See how each Wound the blushing Ground
With precious Tincture stains.

See his pierc'd Side spouting out Blood
And Water through the Wound;
A Stream wherein we're wash'd from Sin,
And all our Guilt is drown'd.

But, Oh! what Terrors wrack'd his Soul,
In that last Agony,
When (e're he dy'd) My God, he cry'd,
Why hast forsaken me!

Thus dy'd the Blessed Son of God,
That we might ever live
There, where all Bliss our Souls can wish,
Or can contain, He'll give.

Mean while the Myst'ries of his Grace
At's Table he displays;
That so great Love our Souls may move,
And Tongues to sing his Praise.