Darkly Rose the Guilty Morning

Darkly rose the guil­ty morn­ing

When

the King of glo­ry scorn­ing

Raged the fierce Je­ru­sa­lem;

See the Christ

His cross up­bear­ing

See Him strick­en

spit on

wear­ing

The thorn-plat­ed dia­dem.

Not the crowd whose cries as­sailed Him

Nor the hands that rude­ly nailed Him

Slew Him on the curs­èd tree;

Ours the sin from Heav’n that called Him

Ours the sin whose bur­den galled Him

In the sad Geth­se­ma­ne.

For our sins

of glo­ry emp­tied

He was fast­ing

lone

and tempt­ed

He was slain on Cal­va­ry;

Yet He for His mur­der­ers plead­ed;

Lord

by us that pray­er is need­ed

We have pierc­ed

yet trust in Thee.

In our wealth and tri­bu­la­tion

By Thy pre­cious cross and pass­ion

By Thy blood and ago­ny

By Thy glo­ri­ous re­sur­rect­ion

By Thy Holy Ghost’s pro­tect­ion

Make us Thine eter­nal­ly.