Mysteries of Life, Death, and Futurity
Welby, Horace A Hymn Oh, 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 hallow'd oyls, no grains I need, No rays of saints, no purging fire, One rosie drop from David's seed Was worlds of seas to quench thine ire: O precious ransome! which once paid, That Consummatum est was said. And said...