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| 1 |
O Sacred Head surrounded By crown of piercing thorn! O bleeding Head so wounded, Reviled and put to scorn! Death's pallid hue comes o'er Thee, The glow of life decays, Yet angel hosts adore Thee, And tremble as they gaze. |
| 2 |
I see Thy strength and vigor All fading in the strife, And death with cruel rigor, Bereaving Thee of life: O agony and dying! O love to sinners free! Jesus, all grace supplying, O turn Thy face on me. |
| 3 |
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. |
| 4 |
But death too is my ending; In that dread hour of need, My friendless cause befriending, Lord, to my rescue speed: Thyself, O Jesus, trace me, Right passage to the grave, And from Thy cross embrace me, With arms outstretched to save. |