When wounded sore the stricken soul

Lies bleeding and unbound,

One only hand, a piercèd hand,

Can heal the sinner's wound.

When sorrow swells the laden breast,

And tears of anguish flow,

One only heart, a broken heart,

Can feel the sinner's woe.

When penitence has wept in vain,

Over some foul dark spot,

One only stream, a stream of blood,

Can wash away the blot.

'Tis Jesus' blood that washes white,

His hand that brings relief,

His heart that's touched with all our joys,

And feeleth for our grief.

Lift up thy bleeding hand, O Lord;

Unseal that cleansing tide;

We have no shelter from our sin,

But in thy wounded side.

Amen.