The Longing

Bert Bunn

I long for the wine that Jesus made,

that came not from vine, but when He prayed.

Good wine from Cana, sweeter still,

To quench both longing and selfish will.

I long for the bread brought by the Lad,

Along with fishes all he had.

Food to nourish and assuage,

My empty longing throughout this age.

I long for water, drawn not from a well;

Once offered to a woman who at once could tell;

Springs of water living within,

That once received save from sin.

I long for the supper at table with Christ,

The cup to share his blood sufficed.

Unleavened bread broken and torn,

As his body for us has borne.

I long for those, gone on before,

No pain, no want, their bodies pure.

At rest in glory, beside the throne

Their faith complete, their race reached home.