Horace Welby

Mysteries of Life, Death and Futurity Horace Welby

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 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