156 O Sacred Head Now Wounded
[1]
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 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.
[2]
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.
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.
[3]
What language shall I borrow
To thank Thee dearest friend
For this Thy dying sorrow
Thy pity without end?
O make me Thine forever;
And should I fainting be
Lord let me never never
Outlive my love to Thee.
What language shall I borrow
To thank Thee dearest friend
For this Thy dying sorrow
Thy pity without end?
O make me Thine forever;
And should I fainting be
Lord let me never never
Outlive my love to Thee.