O, how your Mercy flows,
As water pure from flowing streams;
Gently it runs as light and wind,
As a flying dove, invisible and free,
That comes from heaven’s heights so low.

Touch, oh touch, this earthly dust,
Your dew of life up it pour,
Lest it becomes dry and hard,
As a reed feeble, as fire dull.

As the sun, let your gaze be piercing,
Though, as the burning bush, unconsumed,
In the soul your Presence blessed and pure,
Lest it turns to sin so quickly.

From your Essence speak,
Divine, though as Bread appearing;
Inebriate me with your words,
As with transubstantiated, sacred Wine.

For what you say, I believe,
And in truth, I confess,
I confess that You Are…
The great I AM, the Son of Man,
In this Bread the living God.