I Thirst, Thou Wounded Lamb of God OLIVET—Isaac B. Woodbury I Thirst, Thou Wounded Lamb of God 1 I Thirst, thou wounded Lamb of God, To wash me in thy cleansing blood, To dwell within thy wounds; then pain Is sweet, and life or death is gain. 2 Take my poor heart, and let it be For ever closed to all but thee! Seal thou my breast, and let me we; That pledge of love for ever there! 3 How blest are they who still abide Close sheltered in thy bleeding side, Who life and strength from thence