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 In like wise His blessed Feet Are to torture given, As the Hands that had so oft In our battle striven.

Streams of Blood are trickling down From those holy sources: Hither! weak and sinful soul! And renew thy forces: This the medicine, that shall cure Terrors and remorses; This the writing, that for us Freedom's deed endorses.

Then the Lord exclaimed,—"I thirst!" (Meet did Scripture make it:) On a reed they raise the sponge To the lips that spake it: Vinegar and gall they give To His thirst to slake it: Which when He had tasted of, He refused to take it.

, wondrous to the last! What was Thine intention ? Thou wast silent of the Cross, But of thirst mad'st mention: