July 1st - Feast of the Most Precious Blood

[Stone]

Feast of the Most Precious Blood




I Peter i. 28: "You were not redeemed with corruptible things as gold or silver . . .but with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb unspotted and undefiled."

I. Blood is the price of heaven;
All sin that price exceeds;
Oh, come to be forgiven:
He bleeds, my Saviour bleeds!

II. Under the olive-boughs,
Falling like ruby beads,
The blood drops from His brows:
He bleeds, my Saviour bleeds!

III. While the fierce scourges fall,
The precious blood still pleads;
In front of Pilate's hall,
He bleeds, my Saviour bleeds!

IV. Beneath the thorny crown
The crimson fountain speeds;
See how it trickles down:
He bleeds, my Saviour bleeds!

V. Bearing the fatal wood,
His band of saints He leads,
Marking the way with blood:
He bleeds, my Saviour bleeds!

VI. On Calvary His shame
With blood still intercedes;
His open wounds proclaim
He bleeds, my Saviour bleeds!

VII. He hangs upon the tree,--
Hangs there for my misdeeds;
He sheds His blood for me:
He bleeds, my Saviour bleeds!

VIII. His blood is flowing still:
My thirsty soul it feeds;
He lets me drink my fill:
He bleeds, my Saviour bleeds!

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Praise to the Most Precious Blood

Heb. xii. 24: "But you are come to Jesus the mediator of the New Testament, and to the sprinkling of blood, which speaketh better than that of Abel."

I. Hail, Jesus! hail! who for my sake
Sweet blood from Mary's veins didst take,
And shed it all for me;
Oh, blessed be my Saviour's blood,
My life, my light, my only good,
To all eternity.

II. To endless ages let us praise
The Precious Blood, whose price could raise
The world from wrath and sin;
Whose streams our inward thirst appease,
And heal the sinner's worst disease,
If he but bathe therein.

III. O Sweetest Blood, that can implore
Pardon of God, and heaven restore,
The heaven which sin had lost;
While Abel's blood for vengeance pleads,
What Jesus shed still intercedes
For those who wronged Him most.

IV. Oh, to be sprinkled from the wells
Of Christ's own Sacred Blood excels
Earth's best and highest bliss;
The ministers of wrath divine
Hurt not the happy hearts that shine
With those red drops of His!

V. Ah, there is joy amid the saints,
And hell's despairing courage faints
When this sweet song we raise:
Oh, louder then, and louder still,
Earth with one mighty chorus fill,
The Precious Blood to praise!