Mysteries of Life, Death, and Futurity

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 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