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In Praise of Your Table


Father, I praise you for the table you have prepared.

Not for food for the body,

As much as food for the soul.

Drink that satisfies my inner thirst.

Bread that nourishes the hungers of my life.

Fruit of the Spirit that grows me upward.


Father, You have adorned your table

Not elegantly,

Yet, lovingly.

Rough wood beams, crossed,

Wrought iron nails,

Crude thorn-crown.

No china place settings,

Only earth to take the spills.

No silverware is placed,

Only silver pieces scattered about.

No tumbler of fine glass,

Only a sponge of sour wine.

No knife to pare the meat,

Only a spear to pierce the heart.


Your food, O Lord, satisfies not for a time,

But blesses my life for eternity.

The cup you brought,

Your Son’s blood,

Spilt upon the table,

Runs, covering everything,

Until You no longer see

What was my shameful self.

The bread of life You’ve given,

Your Son’s life,

Is broken for me to eat.

I receive it Lord.

I receive it all,

Full, complete.

It is enough for me.


May I remember Lord,

That all my thirsts

And all my hungers

Begin and end in You.



Glenn E. Robertson

11/23/1999