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XLVII. I thirst thou wounded Lamb of God

1 I thirst, thou wounded Lamb of God,
To wash me in thy cleansing blood:
To dwell within thy wounds: then pain
Is sweet, and life or death is gain.

2 Take this poor heart, and let it be
For ever clos'd to all but thee!
Seal thou my breast, and let me wear
That pledge of love for ever there.

3 How blest are they who still abide
Close shelter'd in thy bleeding side!
Who life and strength from thence derive,
And by thee move, and in thee live!

4 What are our works but sin and death,
Till thou thy quick'ning spirit breathe;
Thou giv’st the pow'r thy grace to move,
O wond'rous grace, O boundless love!

5 How can it be, thou heav'nly King,
That thou shouldst us to glory bring?
Make slaves the partners of thy throne,
Deck'd with a never-fading crown?

6 Hence our hearts melt, our eyes o'erflow,
Our words are lost; nor will we know,
Nor will we think of aught beside,
"My Lord, my Love is crucify'd."

7 Ah, Lord! enlarge our scanty thought,
To know the wonders thou hast wrought!
Unloose our stamm'ring tongue to tell
Thy love immense, unsearchable!

8 First-born of many brethren thou,
To thee, lo! all our souls we bow;
To thee our hearts and hands we give;
Thine may we die, thine may we live.

Text Information

• First Line: I thirst thou wounded Lamb of God
• Language: English
• Publication Date: 1788
• Topic: Petition

Tune Information

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