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O Jesus Christ, if aught there be 
O Jesu Christ, if aught there be That, more than all beside, In ever painful memory Must in my heart abide, 
It is that deep ingratitude Which I to Thee have shown, Who didst for me in tears and blood Upon the cross atone. 
Alas, how with my actions all Has this defect entwined; How has it poisoned with its gall My spirit, heart and mind! 
Alas, through this, how many a gem I’ve rudely cast away, That might have formed my diadem In everlasting day! 
Yet though the time be past and gone, Though little more remains: Though naught is all that can be done, E’en with my utmost pains; 
Still will I strive, O Savior mine, To do what in me lies; For never did Thy glance divine A contrite heart despise.