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Behold my wound, O Thou Who giv'st relief!

Let me Thine ears with voice of weeping win;

Seek in Thy mercy balsam for my grief,

But seek not for my sin.

Give ear unto my voice, O list my call!

And give me peace, for Thou art great to save.

What profit is there in my blood, my fall

Down low unto the grave?

But [ unceasing will declare Thy praise;

Grant my atonement, though I sinned so oft.

Bring not my word to nothingness, but raise

My fallen sheaf aloft.

Redeem Thy son, long sold to bondage grim,

And on his substance let Thy blessing flow;

How long, O Lord, ere Thou wilt say to him,

"I know, my son, I know.