O Sacred Head, Now Wounded : -ghf116.mid - [Play Midi]

1. O sacred Head, now wounded,
   With grief and shame weighed down
   Now scornfully surrounded
   With thorns, Thine only crown;
   How art Thou pale with anguish
   With sore abuse and scorn!
   How does that visage languish
   Which once was bright as morn!

2. What Thou, my Lord, has suffered
   Was all for sinners' gain:
   Mine, mine was the transgression,
   But Thine the deadly pain.
   Lo, here I fall, my Saviour!
   '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!