He was wounded for our transgressions; He was bruised for our iniquities. The chastisement of our peace was upon Him, and with His stripes we are healed.@Isaiah 53:5

Original author unknown (Ecquis binas Columbinas). Translated from Latin to English by Henry Trend in Lyra Messianica, edited by Orby Shipley (London: Longman, Green, Longman, Roberts & Green, 1864), pages 170-71.

Iowa City William H. Hartwell, 1897 (🔊 pdf nwc).

O Holy Dove, assist my love,
Give my soul swift wings to fly,
And reach the Palm, whose wondrous balm
Fragrance yields that fills the sky:
There God our Lord, th’Incarnate Word,
Glorious friend of our lost race,
Hung, wounded sore, and bruised all o’er,
Meekly bearing all disgrace.

My heart, awake! O Jesu, take
Pity; save me; refuge give;
And open wide Thy bleeding side,
Hidden there my soul shall live,
And peaceful dwell, secure from hell,
Free from every worldly snare:
No mountain cave such rest e’er gave
Hunted wanderers sheltered there.

O Love Divine, for ever mine,
Didst Thou suffer, Lord, for me
Amazing loss? and did the cross
Wring Thy soul with agony?
Yes, Lord, that tree did torture Thee,
Though no sin at all was Thine;
For my foul guilt Thy blood was spilt;
Now life through Thy death is mine.

It seems too much to make me such,
Dearest Lord, as Thou hast done;
Oh, while I live, myself I give;
Take the heart which Thou hast won:
O blessèd love, born from above,
Unconquered Thou, while conquering all;
Before Thy breath, stronger than death,
Harmless all his darts must fall.

Though dead in sins, new life begins,
Wrought in me by love’s sweet might;
Illustrious fire, burn on: blaze higher:
Melt this frozen heart outright:
O Christ, inflame, through Thy dear name,
My loved soul with love of Thee;
To hold Thee e’er, to leave Thee ne’er—
Give, Oh, give this power to me.