To A Love-Feast We Both Invited Are: The Figur'D Damask, Or Pure Diaper, Over The Golden Altar Now Is Spread, With Bread, And Wine, And Vessels Furnished; The Sacred Towel And The Holy Ewer Are Ready By, To Make The Guests All Pure: Let'S Go, My Alma; Yet, Ere We Receive, Fit, Fit It Is We Have Our Parasceve. Who To That Sweet Bread Unprepar'D Doth Come, Better Be Starv'D, Than But To Taste One Crumb.