When wounded sore, the stricken heart
Lies bleeding and unbound,
One only hand, a pierc�d hand,
Can salve the sinner�s wound.

When sorrow swells the laden breast,
And tears of anguish flow,
One only heart, a broken heart,
Can feel the sinner�s woe.

When penitential grief has wept
Over some foul dark spot,
One only stream, a stream of blood,
Can wash away the blot.

�Tis Jesus� blood that washes white,
His hand that brings relief,
His heart that�s touched with all our joys,
And feels for all our grief.

Lift up Thy bleeding hand, O Lord,
Unseal that cleansing tide;
We have no shelter from our sin
But in Thy wounded side.