Hymns on the Lord's Supper, 6

Ah, give me, Lord, my sins to mourn,
My sins which have Thy body torn;
Give me with broken heart to see
Thy last tremendous agony,
To weep o'er an expiring God,
And mix my sorrows with Thy blood.

O could I gain the mountain's height,
And look upon that piteous sight!
O that with Salenfs daughters I
Might stand and see my Saviour die,
Smite on my breast, and inly mourn,
But never from Thy cross return!