A Hymn to My God in a Night of My Late Sickness
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 rosy drop from David’s seed
Was worlds of seas to quench thine ire.
O precious ransom, which once paid
That Consummatum Est was said;
And said by him that said no more,
But sealed it with his sacred breath.
Thou then, that has dispunged my score,
And dying was the death of Death,
Be to me now—on thee I call—
My Life, my Strength, my Joy, my All.