When Wounded Sore, The Stricken Soul
Lies Bleeding And Unbound,
One Only Hand, A Pierced Hand,
Can Salve The Sinner’s Wound.

When Sorrow Swells The Laden Breast,
And Tears Of Anguish Flow,
One Only Heart, A Broken Heart,
Can Feel The Sinner’s Woe.

When Penitence Has Wept In Vain
Because Of Some Dark Spot,
One Only Stream, A Stream Of Blood,
Can Wash Away The Blot.

‘Tis Jesus’ Blood That Washes White,
This Hand That Brings Relief;
This Heart That’s Touched With All Our Joys,
And Feels For All Our Grief.

Lift Up Thy Bleeding Hand, O Lord,
Unseal That Cleansing Tide;
We Have No Shelter From Our Sin
But In Thy Wounded Side.