Upon this Maundy Thursday, shadows fall,
As evening casts its solemn, quiet veil,
A time when echoes of the ancient call
Resound within the sanctuary's pale.
The table set, simple bread and wine,
Remind us of the sacrifice to come,
Of love transcendent, poured like sacred brine,
In humble service, not of martyrdom.
For on this night, the Master bowed to wash
The feet of those who followed in his way,
A gesture of humility, not to squash,
But to uplift and teach how to obey.
So let us in this moment deeply dwell,
And serve each other, as his words compel.