Hymnal ‎#75

75. Now, my soul, thy voice upraising

1 Now, my soul, thy voice upraising,
Tell in sweet and mournful strain,
How the Crucified enduring
Grief, and wounds, and dying pain,
Freely of His love was offered,
Sinless was for sinners slain.

2 Scourged with unrelenting fury,
For the sins which we deplore,
By His livid Stripes He heals us,
Raising us to fall no more;
All our bruises gently soothing,
Binding up the bleeding sore.

3 See! His Hands and Feet are fastened;
So He makes His people free;
Not a wound whence Blood is flowing
But a fount of grace shall be;
Yea the very nails which nail Him
Nail us also to the Tree.

4 Through His Heart the spear is piercing,
Though His foes have seen Him die;
Blood and Water thence are streaming
In a tide of mystery,
Water from our guilt to cleanse us,
Blood to win us crowns on high.

5 Jesu, may those precious Fountains
Drink to thirsting souls afford:
Let them be our Cup and Healing,
And at length our full Reward;
So a ransomed world shall ever
Praise Thee its redeeming Lord.

Text Information

• First Line: Now, my soul, thy voice upraising
• Meter: 8s. 7s., six lines.
• Language: English
• Publication Date: 1871
• Topic: Passion Week

Tune Information

(No tune information)