Text 1Beneath the forms of outward riteThy supper, Lord, is spreadIn every quiet upper roomWhere fainting souls are fed. 2The bread is always consecrateWhich men divide with men;And every act of brotherhoodRepeats Thy feast again. 3The blessed cup is only passedTrue memory of Thee,When life anew pours out its wineWith rich sufficiency. 4O Master, through…