O Sacred Head, Now Wounded

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.

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 doth Thy visage languish
that 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
Outlive my love to Thee.

When strength one day shall fail me,
Lord, fail me not I pray:
When pangs of death assail me,
Beside me, Jesus stay:
When, head and heart I languish,
And hardly draw my breath,
Deliver me from anguish,
By virtue of Thy death.

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 through Thy love.

MIDI sequence copyright © 1999 Brian M. Ames.