Praise Jesus Christ the hallowed bread

who, daily, shows Himself enough;

who, broken, feeds the hung'ring host

and wholly sates their uttermost.

Not "what," but "Whom?" - High heav'nly stuff

to resurrect the starven dead.

Praise Jesus Christ, true worship's light

whom darkenss has not overcome - 

Proceeding from His thund'ring throne,

consuming ox and wood and stone.

Where He proceeds must night succumb,

blind men receive unclouded sight.

Praise Jesus Christ the certain gate.

Foundations set in faultless rock

hold fast against presumptive claim.

His own pass through, each called by name -

Obediently, in faith they knock

to enter YHWH's vast estate.

Praise Jesus Christ who guards His sheep

from precipice, or lion's teeth.

He leads to lea and living spring

and casts the shadow of His wing

to comfort we who rest beneath,

entrusting Him our peace to keep.

Praise Jesus Christ who conquered death,

the doom of dust. Grave Sheol's deep 

He stirred to praise with lordly cries,

for joy bid faithful sons "Arise!

Forsake Gehenna's smould'ring heap!

Ascend, imbued with Spirit-breath!"

Praise Jesus Christ, unerring way - 

by lantern lit, by star known true - 

whose uncut stones a hope foretold,

a giving way from clay to gold.

Saint's silenced steps will ring anew

on YHWH's great and terrible day.

Praise Jesus Christ the laden vine,

well-dressed, so bearing heavy fruit.

Pruned deadwood stokes an earnest fire

whose incense rises ever high'r

while branches grafted in the Root

avail a lavish yield of wine.

Praise Jesus Christ, the great I AM,

slain from the world's foundation! He

who was, and is, and is to come,

subjecting all, has overcome!

Heav'n, earth, and grave give trembling knee

to Jesus Christ the risen lamb!