Now My Soul Thy Voice Upraising

This hymn was used for Vespers I & II on the Feast of the Five Wounds of Christ in the Paris Breviary (1736).

Here is the text as it appears in Hymns Ancient & Modern (1861) where it is listed under hymns on the Passion:

Now, my soul, thy voice upraising,
Tell in sweet and mournful strain
How the Crucified, enduring
Grief, and wounds, and dying pain,
Freely of His love was offered,
Sinless was for sinners slain.

Scourged with unrelenting fury
For the sins which we deplore,
By His livid stripes He heals us,
Raising us to fall no more;
All our bruises gently soothing,
Binding up the bleeding sore.

See! His Hands and Feet are fastened;
So He makes His people free:
Not a Wound whence Blood is flowing
But a Fount of Grace shall be;
Yea the very nails which nail Him
Nail us also to the Tree.

Through His Heart the spear is piercing,
Though His foes have seen Him die;
Blood and Water thence are streaming
In a tide of mystery,
Water from our guilt to cleanse us,
Blood to win us crowns on high.

Jesu, may those precious Fountains
Drink to thirsting souls afford;
Let them be our Cup and Healing,
And at length our full Reward;
So a ransomed world shall ever
Praise Thee, its Redeeming Lord.

Words: Claude de Santeuil, 1680; tr. John Chandler, 1837; altered by Sir. Henry W. Baker, 1861.
Tune (Hymns Ancient & Modern): “St. Denys (Monk)” William H. Monk, 1861.
Tune (The English Hymnal): “St. Thomas (Webbe)” Samuel Webbe, 1740-1816.
Meter: 87.87.87

Here is the original text of the hymn from John Chandler’s 1837 Hymns of the Primitive Church:

Now, my soul, thy voice upraising,
Sing aloud in mournful strain
Of the sorrows most amazing,
And the agonizing pain,
Which our Saviour,
Sinless bore, for sinners slain.

He the ruthless scourge enduring,
Ransom for our sins to pay,
Sinners by his own stripes curing,
Raising those who wounded lay,
Bore our sorrows,
And removed our pains away.

He to liberty restored us
By the very bonds he bare,
And his nail-pierced limbs afford us
Each a stream of mercy rare,
Us they fasten
To the cross, and keep us there.

When his painful life was ended,
Then the spear transfixed his side,
Blood and water thence descended,
Pouring forth a double tide:
This to cleanse us,
That to heal us, is applied.

Jesu, may thy promised blessing
Comfort to our souls afford,
May we, now thy love possessing,
And at length our full reward,
Ever praise Thee,
As our ever-glorious Lord.

Meter: 87.87.47

This is the text of this hymn as it appears in The English Hymnal (1906) where it is listed as a hymn for the Palm Sunday Procession:

At the entrance into the Choir. 

Now my soul, thy voice upraising,
Tell in sweet and mournful strain
How the Crucified, enduring
Grief and wounds, and dying pain,
Freely of his love was offered,
Sinless was for sinners slain.

See, his hands and feet are fastened!
So he makes his people free;
Not a wound whence Blood is flowing
But a fount of grace shall be;
Yea, the very nails which nail him
Nail us also to the Tree.

Jesu, may those precious fountains
Drink to thirsting souls afford;
Let them be our cup and healing,
And at length our full reward:
So a ransomed world shall ever
Praise thee, its redeeming Lord.

At the Sanctuary step.
V. Deliver me from mine enemies, O God.
R. Defend me from them that rise up against me.

Collect for Palm Sunday.

The original Latin text of this hymn may be found here.