Hail thou, the world’s salvation,
Hail Jesus kind and sweet,
Before thy Rood in gratitude
I bow and clasp thy feet.
Before thy holy altar
My soul bows down to thee,
I know that thou art present now,
Be merciful to me.
Those feet, which cruel iron
Has pierced full deep and sore;
Lord, let smart live in my heart
To love thee more and more.
What thanks, O wounded Saviour,
Can I return to thee,
For all the love thy mercies prove —
Thy death upon the tree?
Curb all my thoughts and motions,
That unto wrong incline;
Thy strength supply and purify,
And make me wholly thine.
Upon thy cross I seek thee
As wine unto my soul;
In cleansing flood thy healing blood
Can make my spirit whole.
Thy ruddy wounds, sweet Saviour,
Thy bleeding scars so deep, —
The pangs impart upon my heart,
That I may feel and weep.
Those feet, my gentle Jesus,
Who presseth to his heart
Thy love to seek, though poor and weak,
May strong in soul depart.
Before thy cross behold me
Where I thy feet embrace;
I cry to thee, Lord, pity me,
Deny me not thy grace.
Before thy cross behold me,
My loving Lord I pray,
Say to my soul, “Be strong and whole,
Thy sins are washed away.”