O sweet Jesus,
soul’s physician
See and weigh
the dire condition
Of my soul’s
wounds so profound!
Of my sorely
troubled mind!
Of the floods
that my eyes blind
Rising from my
heart’s own ground!
But if all my
wounds and sighs
Fail your heart
to open prise,
Then, O heart
of Jesus, view
Your own wounds
and deep-gashed side,
And death’s
savage streams so wide,
Where such pain
and woe you knew!
Solace then
you’ll bring my soul,
Speak these
words that me console:
I’ll restore
what sin’s debased!
No more shall
you feel pain’s dart
In your sorely
wounded heart
Once I wound on
wound have placed!
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