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 gory,
I joy to ccall thee mine.
2 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,
and grant 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
outlive my love to thee.
|First Line:||O sacred head now wounded|
|Title:||O Sacred Head, Now Wounded|
|Author (attributed to):||Bernard of Clairvaux, 12th C.|
|Translator (into German):||Paul Gerhardt (1656)|
|Translator (into English):||James W. Alexander (1830)|
|Topic:||The Service of the Word: Songs of Confession; Praise and Thanksgiving: Songs to Remember the Work of the Son|
|Arranger:||J. S. Bach (1729)|
|Composer:||Hans Leo Hassler (1601)|
|On the Via Dolorosa||REFLECTIONS ON HOLY WEEK||Music for a Celebration, Set 4||O SACRED HEAD, NOW WOUNDED (Baptist Hymnal 1991 - 137)|
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