1 O what precious balm and healing,
Jesus, in Thy wounds I find!
Ev'ry hour that I am feeling
Pains of body and of mind;
Should some evil thought rush in,
And provoke my soul to sin,
Thoughts of Thy deep wounds from sinning
Keep me in its first beginning.
2 Should some lust or sharp temptation
Prove too strong for flesh and blood,
Lo! I think upon Thy Passion,
And the breach is soon made good:
Or should Satan press me hard,
Thinking I am off my guard,
Christ, I say, for me was wounded,
And the tempter flees confounded.
3 If the world my heart entices
On the broad and easy road,
And doth by its gay devices
Silence ev'ry thought of God,
When the heavy load I see
Which, dear Lord, was laid on Thee,
I can still each wild emotion,
Calm and blest in my devotion.
4 Lord, whate'er may pain or grieve me,
Thy dear wounds can make me whole;
When my heart sinks, they revive me,
Life pours in upon my soul:
May Thy comfort render sweet
Ev'ry bitter cup I meet;
Thou who by Thy death and Passion
Hast procured my soul's salvation.
5 Lord, on Thee alone I stay me,
Safely hid beneath Thy wing;
Death can neither hurt nor slay me,
Thy death took away his sting:
That I may in Thee have part,
Comfort, strengthen, heal my heart;
Light, and life, and love bestowing,
All from Thy free mercy flowing.
6 Well of life, if Thou art near me,
Springing deep within my heart,
When the last dread hour shall try me,
I can feel no inward smart:
If I hide myself in Thee,
Not a foe can injure me;
He shall overcome who hideth
In Thy wounds, and there abideth.