“O Sacred Head, Now Wounded”

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 call 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 for Thee.

4 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.

Text: attr. Bernard of Clairvaux, 1091–1153; German version, Paul Gerhardt, 1607–76; tr. The Lutheran Hymnal, 1941, alt.; Tune: Hans Leo Hassler, 1564–1612; Text: © 1941 Concordia Publishing House. Used by permission: LSB Hymn License no. 110005077; Tune: Public domain

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