From St. John's Passion

From the bonds of my sins to unbind me, my Salvation is bound. To heal me fully from all boils of vice He lets Himself be wounded.

O my senses, where have you finally gone!  Where shall I restore myself?  Shall I stay here, or do I wish mountains and hills to fall upon my back?  With the world there is no counsel at all, while in my heart persist the agonies of my misdeed, for the servant has denied his lord.

Give thought, my soul, with anguished pleasure, with bitter delight and half-anxious heart, to thy highest good in Jesus' sorrows, how from the thorns that pierce him heavenly flowers bloom for thee.  Thou canst pluck much sweet fruit from the bitter wormwood, therefore look unceasingly upon him.

Consider how his blood-tinged back in all its parts is just like the sky, where, after the floodwaves of our sins' deluge have passed by, the most exceedingly beautiful rainbow stands as a sign of God's grace.

Through your captivity, Son of God, freedom must come to us.  Your prison cell is the throne of grace, the refuge of all the devout.  For if you had not entered into servitude, our servitude would have had no end.

Hasten, you tormented souls, leave your dens of misery.  Hasten!  Where to?  To Golgotha!  Take the wings of faith and fly!  Where to?  To the hill of the cross!  That is where your powers will be revived.

At the bottom of my heart your name and cross alone shine forth every minute of every day, for which I can be joyful.  Show me in my mind's eye - for consolation in my distress - how you, Christ, so abundantly bled to death!

My precious Savior, let me ask you: Since you were nailed to the cross and have yourself said, "It is accomplished," have I been made free from death?  Can I, through your pain and death, inherit the kingdom of heaven?  Is the redemption of the world here?  You can, in agony, it is true, say nothing, but you bow your head and say in silence, "Yea."

O help, Christ, Son of God, through your bitter suffering that we, ever submissive to you, may shun all wrongdoing.  May consider, to our benefit, your death and its cause for which we, though poor and weak, may bring you thank-offerings.