By
John Donne.
O
Son of
God, who seeing two things,
Sin, and
death crept in, which were never made,
By bearing one, try'st with what stings
The other could thine
heritage invade;
O be thou nail'd unto my
heart,
And
crucified again,
Part not from it, though it from thee would part,
But let it be, by applying so thy pain,
Drown'd in thy
blood, and in thy
passion slain.