O CHRIST! O Christ! The hands! The eager hands,
The tired hands! The praying tragic grip
Of fingers on the rail! The speechless lip
That moving cries and cries its sore demands!
We come, O Christ, in trooping wistful bands,
With yearning hearts and thirsty souls to sip;
We kneel, we wait, we pray, in fellowship
Of need — Lord Christ! One glimpse of Promised Lands!
It comes — the whispered word, the cup, the tray,
My Body and my Blood, the Bread, the Wine.
The hands receive, the lips accept. We pray —
O Christ! We pray! . . . Peace and be still. The line
Moves on . . . Forgive, O! Lord! forgive to-day
The tortured flesh that faithless craved a sign!