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 rosie drop from David's seed Was worlds of seas to quench Thine ire. Oh, precious ransom! which once paid, That "consummatum est" was said, And said by Him who said no more, But sealed it with His dying breath: Thou then that hast dispunged my score, And dying wast the death of Death, Be to me now, on Thee I call, My life, my strength, my joy, my all! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A LITTLE INVISIBLE BEING WHO IS EXPECTED SOON TO BECOME VISIBLE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE VOLUNTEER by ELBRIDGE JEFFERSON CUTLER COLUMBUS AT THE CONVENT [JULY, 1491] by JOHN TOWNSEND TROWBRIDGE SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 38. THE RETREAT FROM MOSCOW by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) A LOVE BARGAINE by JOSEPH BEAUMONT SATURDAY IN Y' HOLY WEEK by JOSEPH BEAUMONT MISS MILLY O'NAIRE by WILLARD GROSVENOR BLEYER |