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 hallowed oyls, no grains I need,
No rags of saints, no purging fire ;
One rosie drop from David's seed
Was worlds of seas to quench thine ire
O precious ran some ! which once paid,
That Conmminatum est was said ;
And said by Him that said no more,
But seal'd it with his sacred breath :
Thou, then, that has dispong'd my score,
And dying wast the death of Death,
Be to me now, on thee I call,
My life, my strength, my joy, my all!
Sir Henry Wotton
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-hymn-15/
