O Sacred Head, Surrounded

O sac­red head

sur­round­ed

By crown of pierc­ing thorn!

O bleed­ing head

so wound­ed

So shamed and put to scorn!

Death’s pal­lid hue comes o’er Thee

The glow of life de­cays;

Yet an­gel hosts adore Thee

And trem­ble as they gaze.

I see Thy strength and vi­gor

All fad­ing in the strife

And death with cru­el rigor

Bereaving Thee of life;

O ago­ny and dy­ing!

O love to sin­ners free!

Jesu

all grace sup­ply­ing

O turn Thy face on me.

In this Thy bit­ter pass­ion

Good Shep­herd

think of me

With Thy most sweet com­pass­ion

Unworthy though I be:

Beneath Thy cross abid­ing

For ev­er would I rest

In Thy dear love con­fid­ing

And with Thy pre­sence blest.