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we, who did ease us From foes on the accurséd tree, Joyous raising voice of praising, Exult the Heavens with praises free.

May Thy dying sorrows trying, And spilling of Thy pretious blood, Our desiring to inquiring For Thee our sole Redemption goad.

By His blesséd wounds impresséd, The spittle, scourges, agony, Be conceded, e'en as needed, endless gifts of charity.

Swell our grieving, on perceiving The blood that pours from out Thy scars, Wherein mergéd, be we purgéd, O! mild Creatour of the stars.

Saviour pretious, O! refresh us With those good gifts Thy passion bought, In whose power Thou wouldst shower Blessed joys with heavenly glories fraught.