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, tho’ despised and gory, I joy to call Thee mine.
O noblest brow and dearest, In other days the world
All feared when Thou appearest; What shame on Thee is hurled!
How art Thou pale with anguish, With sore abuse and scorn;
How does that visage languish Which once was bright as morn!
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 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 Out live my love to Thee.
Be near when I am dying, O show Thy cross to me;
And for my succor flying, Come, Lord, to set me free;
These eyes, new faith receiving, From Jesus shall not move;
For he who dies believing, Dies safely, thro’ Thy love. Amen.
(This song reminds me of Hebrews 10:29, “Of how much sorer punishment, suppose ye, shall he be thought worthy, who hath trodden underfoot the Son of God, and hath counted the blood of the covenant, wherewith he was sanctified, an unholy thing, and hath done despite unto the Spirit of grace?”)