Now Let Our Mournful Songs Record

Now let our mourn­ful songs re­cord

The dy­ing sor­rows of our Lord

When He com­plained in tears and blood

As one for­sak­en of his God.

The Jews be­held Him thus for­lorn

And shake their heads

and laugh in scorn:

“He res­cued oth­ers from the grave;

Now let Him try Him­self to save.

This is the man did once pre­tend

God was His Fa­ther and His friend;

If God the bless­èd loved Him so

Why doth He fail to help Him now?

Barbarous peo­ple! cru­el priests!

How they stood round like sa­vage beasts!

Like li­ons gap­ing to de­vour

When God had left Him in their pow­er.

They wound His head

His hands

His feet

Till streams of blood each oth­er meet;

By lot His gar­ments they di­vide

And mock the pangs in which He died.

But God

the Fa­ther

heard His cry;

Raised from the dead

He reigns on high;

The na­tions learn His right­eous­ness

And hum­ble sin­ners taste His grace.