Wounds of Jesus
inflict'd on Jesus,
By nail, by whip and thorn...
Lo, these should never ease us:
His flesh for us so torn.
From His Sacred Body, from Him,
His Precious Blood
From the torso of His, His limb,
It found its course, its route.
It ran down His brow, His face,
And likely ran unto His eye
As the thorns His head did embrace,
The day that Christ did die.
More precious than ruby jewel,
Was His Blood, from
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