1 Dear Lord, amid the throng that pressed
Around Thee on the cursed tree,
Some loyal, loving hearts were there,
Some pitying eyes that wept for Thee.
2 Like them may we rejoice to own
Our dying Lord, tho' crowned with thorn;
Like thee, Thy blessed self, endure
The cross with all its joy or scorn.
3 Thy cross, Thy lonely path of pain
Show what Thy brethren all should be;
Pilgrims on earth disowned by men,
But living yet Thy victory!
Source: The Christian Hymnary. Bks. 1-4 #256