O Sacred Head, Now Wounded

O sac­red head

now wound­ed

With grief and shame weighed down

Now scorn­ful­ly sur­round­ed

With thorns

Thine on­ly crown;

O sac­red head

what glo­ry!

What bliss

till now was Thine!

Yet

though des­pised and go­ry

I joy to call Thee mine.

O nob­lest brow

and dear­est!

In oth­er days the world

All feared

when Thou ap­peared’st

What shame on Thee is hurled!

How art Thou pale with ang­uish

With sore ab­use and scorn;

How does that vi­sage lang­uish

When once was bright as morn.

The blush­es late re­sid­ing

Upon that ho­ly cheek

The ros­es once ab­id­ing

Upon those lips so meek

Alas! they have de­part­ed;

Wan Death has ri­fled all!

For weak and brok­en heart­ed

I see Thy bo­dy fall.

What Thou

my Lord

hast suf­fered

Was all for sin­ners’ gain;

Mine

mine was the trans­gress­ion

But Thine the dead­ly pain.

Lo

here I fall

my Sav­ior!

’Tis I de­serve Thy place;

Look on me with Thy fa­vor

Vouchsafe to me Thy grace.

Receive me

my Re­deem­er

My Shep­herd

make me Thine;

Of eve­ry good the fount­ain

Thou art the spring of mine.

Thy lips with love dis­till­ing

And milk of truth sin­cere

With Heav­en’s bliss are fill­ing

The soul that trem­bles here.

Beside Thee

Lord

I’ve tak­en

My place—for­bid me not!

Hence will I ne’er be shak­en

Though Thou to death be brought

If pain’s last pale­ness hold Thee

In ago­ny op­pressed

Then

then will I en­fold Thee

Within this arm and breast!

The joy can ne’er be spok­en

Above all joys be­side;

When in Thy body brok­en

I thus with safe­ty hide.

My Lord of life

de­sir­ing

Thy glo­ry now to see

Beside the cross ex­pir­ing

I’d breathe my soul to Thee.

What lang­uage shall I bor­row

To thank Thee

dear­est Friend

For this

Thy dy­ing sor­row

Thy pi­ty with­out end?

Oh! make me Thine for­ev­er

And should I fain­ting be

Lord

let me nev­er

nev­er

Outlive my love to Thee.

And when I am de­part­ing

Oh! part not Thou from me;

When mor­tal pangs are dart­ing

Come

Lord

and set me free;

And when my heart must lang­uish

Amidst the fi­nal throe

Release me from mine an­guish

By Thine own pain and woe!

Be near me when I am dy­ing

Oh! show Thy cross to me;

And for my suc­cor fly­ing

Come

Lord

and set me free!

These eyes new faith re­ceiv­ing

From Je­sus shall not move

For he who dies be­liev­ing

Dies safe­ly through Thy love.