98
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. 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,
Vouch-safe 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
Out-live my love to Thee.
WORDS: Attr. Bernard of Clairvaux (1091-1153) Trans. James Waddell Alexander, 1830
MUSIC: Hans Leo Hassler, 1601 Harm. Johann Sebastian Bach, 1729
Scripture: Isaiah 53:3-5 Matthew 27:27-31 Mark 15:16-20 John 19:1-5
Theme: Holy Week