The Smiling Host

Their feet are freshly scrubbed, and now

Their bellies will be filled--we know how

they feel, those quarrelsome disciples

gathered around the meal.

But what must it have signified to You,

Their humble host, on brink of sacrifice?

A foretaste of what You would win

Your view within the room that night.

To hold each foot, fouled and rough,

And make the reeking flesh come clean.

To watch them chew the broken loaf,

Their bushy beards amassing crumbs,

And cheer their spirits with the wine

That stained their wagging tongues.

The Love that animated Your travail

Must have rejoiced to see them eat their fill.

Now, having as well been purified,

I join my fractious family at Your board.

In remembrance of You we sip, divide

The loaf. Oh let me not be inattentive, Lord,

Nor abstract this full-bodied rite to empty rote.

I begin to see there is no better place

Than here, where by Your favor I am brought.
Here my clean soul can feast upon your grace.
Here I can feel my Savior's smiling face.