All ye who seek for sure relief
In trouble and distress,
Whatever sorrow vex the mind,
Or guilt the soul oppress:
Jesus, Who gave Himself for you,
Upon the Cross to die,
Opens to you His sacred heart:
O to that heart draw nigh.
Ye hear how kindly He invites;
Ye hear His words so blest:
“All ye that labour come to me,
And I will give you rest.”
O Jesus, joy of saints on high,
Thou hope of sinners here,
Attracted by those loving words,
To Thee I lift my prayer.
Wash Thou my wounds in that dear blood
Which forth from Thee doth flow;
New grace, new hope inspire; a new
And better heart bestow.
Translated by Fr Edward Casswall (1814-1878)
from the 18th century Latin work.
Set to the tune of Kingsfold, also used for