1 Oh, if my soul were formed for woe,
How would I vent my sighs!
Repentance should like rivers flow
From both my streaming eyes.
2 'Twas for my sins my dearest Lord
Hung on the cursed tree,
And groaned away a dying life
For thee, my soul! for thee.
3 Oh, how I hate these lusts of mine
That crucified my Lord;
Those sins that pierced and nailed his flesh
Fast to the fatal wood!
4 Yes, my Redeemer they shall die;
My heart has so decreed;
Nor will I spare the guilty things
That made my Saviour bleed.
5 While with a melting, broken heart,
My murdered Lord I view,
I'll raise revenge against my sins,
And slay the murderers too.
Source: Laudes Domini: a selection of spiritual songs, ancient and modern for use in the prayer-meeting #166