See sinfull soul thy Saviours suffering see, <br />His Blessed hands and feet fix't fast to tree: <br />Observe what Rivulets of blood stream forth <br />His painful pierced side, each drop more worth <br />Than tongue of men and Angels can express: <br />Hast to him, cursed Caitiffe, and confess <br />All thy misdeeds, and sighing say, 'Twas I <br />That caus'd thee thus, my Lord, my Christ, to dye. <br /> <br /> <br />O let thy Death secure my soul from fears, <br />And I will wash thy wounds with brinish tears: <br />Grant me, sweet Jesu, from thy pretious store <br />One cleansing drop, with grace to sin no more.<br /><br />William Strode<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/anthem-for-good-fryday/
