Heavy laden with thy grief,
Do thy tears like raindrops flow?
Christ hath all thy sorrows borne
See Him in the garden, prone,
While He poured His soul to God;
Then He bore affliction keen,
And the rod.
Weary, laden with thy sin,
Dost thou bow beneath the load?
Cast the burden of thy woe,
On thy God.
See Him faint beneath the load,
As He bears the ghastly tree;
Hear His weary spirit sigh,
All for thee.
Sad and doubting, lo! the sun
Shines upon a glorious day:
He is risen! come, see the place
Where He lay.
Glory to our suffering Lord,
Praise to our exalted King,—
Source of life and endless bliss,—
Let us bring.
|First Line:||Heavy laden with thy grief|
|Title:||Heavy laden with thy grief|
|Translator:||John Brownlie (1907)|