HOLY THURSDAY

The Passover meal sat before them,
But silence filled the room.
Their embarrassed glances shared
Their awkward sense of gloom.

They all had been so busy,
To Jerusalem they’d come.
They thought that all was handled,
The feast was now begun.

But faithful to their customs,
They could not overlook,
The washing of their feet,
the task they had forgot.

The task it must be done.
But it was not for them.
To cleanse the feet of others,
They would not dare to bend.

Then in their discomfort,
The Master did arise.
In quiet, simple movements,
His robes He laid aside.

Before them each He knelt.
Their calloused feet were washed.
Knowing of their journeys,
The soil of souls was brought.

Protest, oh yes they did.
For they were each ashamed.
Yet smiling and forgiving,
He called them each by name.

Even at the feet of Judas,
Who soon the Lord would leave,
He washed his feet as well,
His soul, in love to seek.

Then when the task was ended,
At table again He sat.
He called to His disciples,
To live His love in acts.

The bread then Christ did break.
His Body to us give.
To heal and make us whole
His Kingdom for to live.

The cup as well was given.
His Blood in mercy freed.
Making one the many
For the world to see.

So from that hour to this,
His priests, His servants share,
the Eucharistic Presence
of Christ our Lord in prayer.


Tonight to us He comes,
Our journeys for to cleanse.
Tonight for us He comes
He calls us each to Him.

His Body to receive,
His Blood to make us one.
The Cross His path follow,
And to His resurrection come.