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!