I Thirst, Thou Wounded Lamb of God

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.

Take this poor heart

and let it be

For ev­er closed to all but Thee!

Seal Thou my breast

and let me wear

That pledge of love for ev­er there.

How blest are they who still abide

Close shel­tered in Thy bleed­ing side;

Who life and strength from thence de­rive

And by Thee move

and in Thee live.

What are our works

but sin and death

Till Thou Thy quick­en­ing Spir­it breathe?

Thou giv’st the pow­er Thy grace to move;

O won­drous grace! O bound­less love!

How can it be

Thou heav­en­ly King

That Thou shouldst us to glo­ry bring;

Make slaves the part­ners of Thy throne

Decked with a nev­er-fail­ing crown?

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 cru­ci­fied!

Ah! Lord

en­large our scan­ty thought

To know the won­ders Thou hast wrought;

Unloose our stam­mer­ing tongues to tell

Thy love im­mense

un­search­able.

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!