Oh more than merciful! whose bounty gave
Thy guiltless self to glut the greedy grave!
Whose heart was rent to pay Thy people’s price;
The great high priest at once and sacrifice!
Help, Savior, by Thy cross and crimson stain,
Nor let Thy glorious blood be spilt in vain!

When sin with flowery garland hides her dart,
When tyrant force would daunt the sinking heart,
When fleshly lust assails, or worldly care,
Or the soul flutters in the flower’s snare—
Help, Savior, by Thy cross and crimson stain,
Nor let Thy glorious blood be spilt in vain!

And, chiefest then, when nature yields the strife,
And mortal darkness wraps the gate of life;
When the poor spirit, from the tomb set free,
Sinks at Thy feet and lifts its hope to Thee—
Help, Savior, by Thy cross and crimson stain,
Nor let Thy glorious blood be spilt in vain!