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

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 heals the sinner's worst disease,
If he but bathe therein.

Oh, 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 wrong him most.

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.

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.