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264
the days of the week


Of a pure and spotless Virgin
Born for us on earth below,
He, as man with man conversing,
Stay’d the seeds of truth to sow;
Then He closed in solemn order
Wondrously His life of woe.

On the night of that Last Supper,
Seated with His chosen band,
He the paschal victim eating,
First fulfills the Lord’s command;
Then as food to all His brethren,
Gives Himself with His own hand.

Word made Flesh, the bread of nature
By His word to Flesh He turns;
Wine into His Blood He changes;
What though sense no change discerns!
Only be the heart in earnest,
Faith her lessons quickly learns.

Down in adoration falling,
Lo! the sacred Host we hail!
Lo! o’er ancient forms departing
Newer rites of grace prevail;
Faith for all defects supplying,
Where the feebler senses fail.

To the everlasting Father,
And the Son Who reigns on high,
With the Holy Ghost proceeding
Forth from each eternally,
Be salvation, honor, blessing,
Might and endless majesty. Amen.