O Thou Great Power, in whom I move, For whom I live, to whom I die, Behold me through Thy beams of love Whilst on this couch of tears I lie; And cleanse my sordid soul within, By Thy Christ's blood, the bath of sin. No hallowed oils, no grains, I need, No rags of saints, no purging fire; One rosie drop from David's seed Was worlds of seas to quench Thine ire. Oh, precious ransom! which once paid, That "consummatum est" was said, And said by Him who said no more, But sealed it with His dying breath: Thou then that hast dispunged my score, And dying wast the death of Death, Be to me now, on Thee I call, My life, my strength, my joy, my all! |