1 The King of heaven his table spreads,
And blessings crown the board;
Not paradise, with all its joys,
Could such delight afford.
2 Pardon and peace to dying men,
And endless life are giv'n.
Thro' the rich blood that Jesus shed,
To raise the souls to heav'n
3 Ye hungry poor, who long have stray'd
In sin’s dark mazes, come;
Come, from your most obscure retreats
And grace shall find you room.
4 Millions of souls, in glory now,
Were fed, and feasted here;
And millions more, still on the way,
Around the board appear.
5 All things are ready, come away,
Nor weak excuses frame;
Assume your places at the feast,
And bless the founder’s name.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | The King of heaven his table spreads |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1789 |
Topic: | Lord's Supper: Invitation |
Notes: | Public Domain. |