Precious Blood Devotions
Salvete, Christi vulnera
Hail, Holy Wounds of Jesus, hail!
Sweet pledges of the saving Rood!
Whence flow the streams that never fail---
The purple streams of His dear Blood.
Brighter than brightest stars ye show,
Than sweetest rose thy scent more rare,
No Indian gem may match thy glow,
No honey's taste with thine compare.
Portals are ye to that dear Home,
Wherein our wearied souls may hide,
Whereto no angry foe can come,
The heart of Jesus Crucified.
What countless stripes our Jesus bore,
All naked left in Pilate's hall,
What copious floods of purple gore
Through rents in His torn garments fall.
His comely brow, O shame and grief,
By the sharp, thorny crown is riven,
Through hands and feet, without relief
The cruel nails are deeply driven.
But when for our poor sakes He died,
A willing Priest, by love subdued,
The soldier's spear transfixed His side---
Forth flowed the water and the Blood.
Beneath the winepress of God's wrath,
To save our souls from endless pains,
Still hour by hour His Blood pours forth
Till not a single drop remains.
Come, bathe thee in that healing flood,
All ye who mourn with sin opprest,
Thine only hope in Jesus' Blood,
His Sacred Heart thine only rest.
All praise to Him, the eternal Son,
At God's right hand enthroned above,
Whose Blood the world's redemption won,
Whose Spirit seals the gifts of love. Amen.
(Roman Breviary, tr. by H. N. Oxenham).
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