O sacred Head, now wounded,
With grief and shame weighed down,
Now scornfully surrounded,
With thorns, then Your only crown.

What You, my Lord, has suffered,
Was all for sinners' gain;

O sacred Head, what glory,
What bliss till now was all Thine!
Yet, though despised
And gory, I joy to call You mine.

What You, my Lord, has suffered,
Was all for sinners' gain;
Mine, mine was the transgression,
But Yours the deadly pain.

Lo, here I fall, my Savior!
'Tis I deserve Your place;
Look on me with Your favor,
Bring safe to me Your grace.
O make me Yours forever!
And shall I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never,
Outlive my love for Thee. Please

What You, my Lord, has suffered,
Was all for sinners' gain;
Mine, mine was the transgression,
But Yours the deadly pain.