O Sacred Head Now Wounded

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Everlasting Word Band

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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 'til now was thine
Yet, though despised and gory
I joy to call thee mine
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
Vouchsafe to me thy grace
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

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