hou holy Christ, my soul's own Liege—
My Hiding-Place, my Mercy-Seat—
Who once for all, in public view,
In thorn and nail and rattling breath,
By lowering sky and sundered tomb,
Was Victor crowned in hard-fought fight;
Within my darkness shine Thy light!
To fallen passions give no room;
The foe within me put to death;
And grant that I to Thee may hew,
As in the battle's fiercest heat,
So also in the long cold siege.
The pain that bites with sharpest fang
Thou knowest how to soothe, to heal;
Teach me as well the slow dull ache
To bear, and find Thee by me still.
Loosed from entangling sins each day,
Thus shall I know full joy indeed.
Unto that end, Lord Jesus, feed
My trusting soul, my doubting clay;
According to Thy word and will
Let me of Thy life's blood partake,
And through Thy body—no less real—
Absorb the peace the angels sang.