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 battered, I joy to call Thee mine.

2.Men mock and taunt and jeer Thee, Thou noble countenance,
Though mighty worlds shall fear Thee and flee before Thy glance.
How art thou pale, with anguish, with sore abuse and scorn!
How doth Thy visage languish, that once was bright as morn!

3.Now from Thy cheeks has vanished, their color once so fair;
from Thy red lips is banished the splendor that was there.
Grim death, with cruel rigor, hath robbed Thee of Thy life;
thus Thou hast lost Thy vigor, Thy strength in this sad strife.

4.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, bestow on me Thy grace.

5.My Shepherd, now receive me; my Guardian, own me Thine.
Great blessings Thou didst give me, O source of gifts divine.
Thy lips have often fed me, with words of truth and love;
Thy Spirit oft hath led me, to heav'nly joys above.

6.Here I will stand beside Thee, from Thee I will not part;
O Savior, do not chide me! When breaks Thy loving heart,
When soul and body languish, in death's cold, cruel grasp,
Then, in Thy deepest anguish, Thee in mine arms I'll clasp.

7.The joy can ne'er be spoken, above all joys beside,
When in Thy body broken I thus with safety hide.
O Lord of Life, desiring, Thy glory now to see,
Beside Thy cross expiring, I'd breathe my soul to Thee.

8.What language shall I borrow, to thank Thee, dearest Friend,
For this, Thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end?
Oh, make me Thine, forever! And should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never, outlive my love for Thee.

9.My Savior, be Thou near me when death is at my door;
Then let Thy presence cheer me, forsake me nevermore!
When soul and body languish, oh, leave me not alone,
But take away mine anguish, by virtue of Thine own!

10.Be Thou my Consolation, my Shield when I must die;
Remind me of Thy Passion when my last hour draws nigh.
Mine eyes shall then behold Thee, upon Thy cross shall dwell,
My heart by faith enfold Thee. Who dieth thus dies well!