O Christ, What Burdens Bowed Thy Head

O Christ

what bur­dens bowed Thy head!

Our load was laid on Thee;

Thou stood­est in the sin­ner’s stead

Didst bear all ill for me.

A vic­tim led

Thy blood was shed;

Now there’s no load for me.

Death and the curse were in our cup:

O Christ

’twas full for Thee;

But Thou hast drained the last dark drop

’Tis emp­ty now for me.

That bit­ter cup

love drank it up;

Now bless­ing’s draught for me.

Jehovah lift­ed up His rod;

O Christ

it fell on Thee!

Thou wast sore strick­en of Thy God;

There’s not one stroke for me.

Thy tears

Thy blood

be­neath it flowed;

Thy bruis­ing heal­eth me.

The tem­pest’s aw­ful voice was heard

O Christ

it broke on Thee!

Thy op­en bo­som was my ward

It braved the storm for me.

Thy form was scarred

Thy vis­age marred;

Now cloud­less peace for me.

Jehovah bade His sword awake;

O Christ

it woke ’gainst Thee!

Thy blood the flam­ing blade must slake;

Thine heart its sheath must be;

All for my sake

my peace to make;

Now sleeps that sword for me.

For me

Lord Je­sus

Thou hast died

And I have died in Thee!

Thou’rt ris’n—my hands are all un­tied

And now Thou liv’st in me.

When pu­ri­fied

made white and tried

Thy glo­ry then for me!