The broken bread is served with broken hands,
The wine of silence spilled upon the ground,
So that the cup of sorrow might be shared,
And a new mercy, new beginning found.
Not by the protocols of social use --
Swept out, discard the last of the old leaven.
Malice and wickedness can taste so sweet
But we must fast to eat the Bread of Heaven.
Should one be hungry while another’s full?
Called to eat at one table, we must share
Both from our need and plenty. Tears our drink
Until divisions cease and He is there.
Sin, both our shelter and our solitude,
We will renounce, though eye and hand be shed,
Servants of one another, choosing love,
With trembling hands we’ll serve the broken bread.