sacrament

I've been reading through George Herbert's compilation of poetry called The Temple in the last few days. I found this beautiful copy of it at the Harold B. Lee Library that was published in London during the thick of the American Civil War:

The personally inscribed inside cover of the book reveals that book was given as a gift from one affectionate friend to another in the year 1864. Even after 150 years of passing from hand to hand and eventually landing on the shelf of the HBLL, the love of the author, the affectionate friend who purchased it, and the One who inspired it still manages to warm your fingers as you thumb through the pages. The Temple poetically describes the Christian's experience as he moves deeper into the architecture of the church. Finally arriving at the sacrament table the compilation ends with the following poem:

How sweet the Lord's Supper is to the hungry soul. It is the highest form of affection and love, and He invites all guests to his table. No matter how dejected and cast-off we may feel, he will make room for us at his table if we will but sit and eat.