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Prayer to the Wounded Heart of Jesus
O my Most Loving and Gentle Jesus, I desire with all
the affections of my heart, that all beings created and
uncreated, should praise Thee, honor Thee and glorify
Thee eternally for that Sacred Wound wherewith Thy
Divine side was rent. I deposit, enclose, conceal in that
wound and in that opening in Thy Heart, my heart and
all my feelings, thoughts, desires, intentions
and all the faculties of my soul.
I entreat Thee, by the Precious Blood and Water that flowed
from Thy Most Loving Heart, to take entire possession of me,
that Thou may guide me in all things.
Consume me in the burning fire of Thy Holy Love,
so that I may be so absorbed and transformed
into Thee that I may no longer be but one
with Thee. Amen.
Salvéte Christi vúlnera
Salvéte, Christi vúlnera, Imménsi amóris pígnora Quibus perénnes rívuli Manant rubéntis sánguinis. Nitóre stellas víncitis Rosas odóre et bálsama, Prétio lapíllos Indicos, Mellis favos dulcédine. Per vos patet gratíssimum Nostris asylum méntibus; Non huc furor minántium Umquam penétrat hóstium. Quot Jesus in prætório Flagélla nudus éxcipit! Quot scissa pellis úndique Stillat cruóris gúttulas! Frontem venústam, proh dolor! Coróna pungit spínea, Clavi retúsa cúspide Pedes manúsque pérforant. Postquam sed ille trádidit Amans volénsque spíritum, Pectus ferítur láncea, Geminúsque liquor éxsilit. Ut plena sit redémptio, Sub torculári stríngitur; Suíque Jesus ímmemor, Sibi nil resérvat sánguinis. Veníte quotquot críminum Funésta labes ínficit; In hoc salútis bálneo Qui se lavat, mundábitur. Sequens Conclusio numquam mutátur. Summi ad Paréntis déxteram Sedénti habénda est grátia, Qui nos redémit sánguine, Sanctóque firmat Spíritu. Amen. | Hail, holy wounds of Jesus, hail, Sweet pledges of the saving Rood, Whence flow the streams that never fail, The purple streams of his dear Blood! Brighter than brightest stars ye shew; Than sweetest rose your scent more rare; No Indian gem may match your glow; Nor honey's taste with yours compare. Portals ye are to that dear home Wherein our wearied souls may hide, Whereto no angry foe can come, The Heart of Jesus crucified. What countless stripes our Jesus bore, All naked left in Pilate's hall! From his torn flesh how red a shower Did round his sacred person fall! O shame and woe! his comely head Was riven by a thorny crown; Upon the Cross, by woundings dread, His hands and feet were nailed down. But when for our poor sakes he died, A willing Priest by love subdued, And that sharp lance transfixed his side, Forth flowed the Water and the Blood. In full atonement of our guilt, Careless of self, the Saviour trod, E'en till his Heart's best Blood was spilt, The wine-press of the wrath of God. Come, bathe you in the healing flood, All ye who mourn, by sin oppressed; Your only hope is Jesus' Blood, His sacred Heart your only rest. This Ending is never changed. All praise to him, Eternal Son, At God's right hand enthroned above, Whose Blood our full redemption won, Whose Spirit seals the gift of love. Amen. |
God bless!
+JMJ+
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