Waters of weal, hallow and heal,
mystic moisture and my conscience's lone appeal,
river of blood that me white washes,
quiescent grace that my turbulence now hushes.
Sinner damned by judgment high holy and most right,
God with justice does me killing smite,
that by His work reluctant and life-taking,
He may with His Son recreate me, all things new a'making.
Man of sin be taken forever and more deeply under,
feel the thunderbolt of fury and be shaken by the peal of Sinai's angry thunder,
rid this world of your offense and error,
borne away by Him who is your eternal sin-bearer,
and by absolution's free yet costly gift,
rise and walk as your sick-bed from the earth you lift.
Whelm me in the heavenly bath,
snatch me from the present and near-coming wrath,
scour my soul and in those waters drenching,
save me from that baneful place where wicked men their teeth are cursed clenching,
salve my wounds with your clean dressing,
and grant me love supreme's undying blessing.
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