Words: , 1673, cen­to (Ich tre­te frisch zu Got­tes Tisch); trans­lat­ed from Ger­man to Eng­lish by , 1880, alt.

Music: St. Mi­chael, mel­o­dy by in the French Ge­ne­van Psalt­er, 1551; adapt­ed by in his Psalm Tunes, 1836.


Thy table I approach,
Dear Savior, hear my prayer;
Oh, let no unrepented sin
Prove hurtful to me there!

Lo, I confess my sins
And mourn their wretched bands;
A contrite heart is sure to find
Forgiveness at Thy hands.

Thy body and Thy blood,
Once slain and shed for me,
Are taken here with mouth and soul,
In blest reality.

Search not how this takes place,
This wondrous mystery;
God can accomplish vastly more
Than seemeth plain to Thee.

Vouchsafe, O blessèd Lord,
That earth and hell combined
May ne’er about this sacrament
Raise doubt within my mind.

Oh, may I never fail
To thank Thee day and night
For Thy true body and true blood
O God, my Peace and Light!