315 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. 2 I see Thy strength and vigor All fading in the strife, And death with cruel rigor Bereaving Thee of life; O agony of dying! O love to sinners free! Jesus, all grace supplying, O turn Thy face on me. 3 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. 4 In this Thy bitter passion, Good Shepherd, think of me With Thy most sweet compassion, Unworthy though I be: Beneath Thy cross abiding Forever would I rest, In Thy dear love confiding, And with Thy presence blest. 5 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. 6 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. 7 And when I am departing; O 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. 8 Be near me when I'm dying; O show Thy cross to me; And to 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.