AGH 152

Verse 1

O sacred Head, sore wounded,
With grief and pain weighed down!
O Kingly Head surrounded
With thorns, thine only crown!
How pale art thou with anguish,
With sore abuse and scorn!
How does that visage languish,
Which once was bright as morn!

Verse 2

O Lord of life and glory,
What bliss till now was thine!
I read the wonderours story;
I joy to call thee mine.
Thy grief and bitter passion
Were all for sinners' gain;
Mine, mine was the transgression,
But thine the deadly pain.

Verse 3

What language shall I borrow
To praise thee, heavenly Friend,
For this thy dying sorrow,
Thy pity without end?
Lord, make me thine for ever,
And, should I fainting be ,
Lord, let me never, never
Outlive my love to thee.

Verse 4

Be near me, Lord, when dying;
O show thy cross to me;
And, for my succour flying.
Come, Lord, to set me free;
These eyes, new faith receiving,
From thee shall never move;
For he who dies believing
Dies safely through thy love.