297 O what precious balm and healing,

1 O what precious balm and healing, Jesus, in Thy wounds I find! Every hour that I am feeling Pains of body and of mind: Should some evil thought rush in, And provoke my soul to sin, Thoughts of Thy deep wounds, from sinning Keep me in its first beginning. 2 Should some lust or sharp temptation Prove too strong for flesh and blood, Lo! I think upon Thy passion, And the breach is soon made good: Or should Satan press me hard, Thinking I am off my guard, Christ, I say, for me was wounded, And the tempter flees confounded. 3 If the world my heart entices On the broad and easy road, And doth by its gay devices Silence every thought of God, When the heavy load I see Which, dear Lord, was laid on Thee, I can still each wild emotion, Calm and blest in my devotion. 4 Yes, whate'er may pain or grieve me, Thy dear wounds can make me whole; When my heart sinks, they revive me, Life pours in upon my soul: May Thy comfort render sweet Every bitter cup I meet; Thou who by Thy death and passion Hast procured my soul's salvation. 5 Lord, on Thee alone I stay me, Safely hide beneath Thy wing; Death can neither hurt nor slay me, Thy death took away his sting: That I may in Thee have part, Comfort, strengthen, heal my heart; Light, and life, and love bestowing, All from Thy free mercy flowing. 6 Well of life, if Thou art nigh me, Springing deep within my heart, When the last dread hour shall try me, I can feel no inward smart: If I hide myself in Thee, Not a foe can injure me; He shall overcome who hideth In Thy wounds, and there abideth.