O Sacred Head, Now Wounded

O sacred Head, now wounded, 
with grief and shame weighed down,

Now scornfully surrounded 

with thorns, Thine only crown;
How pale Thou art with anguish, 

with sore abuse and scorn!
How does that visage languish, 

which once was bright as morn!

Truly, one of my favorite Easter Hymns. It seems at once sad and somber. And, you feel the shame and guilt. But, the divine and the sacredness of the sacrifice shine through with glorious hope and yet, reverence. It is just a beautiful tune and a lovely lyric. 

What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered, was all for sinners' gain;

Mine, mine was the transgression, but Thine the deadly pain. 

This arrangement comes from Sunday Morning Companion, Arr by Victor Labenske, found here. More details can be found on the Project Page.

Lyrics: 1830 (J.W. Alexander)

O sacred Head, now wounded, with grief and shame weighed down,

Now scornfully surrounded with thorns, Thine only crown;

How pale Thou art with anguish, with sore abuse and scorn!

How does that visage languish, which once was bright as morn!

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.

Men mock and taunt and jeer Thee, Thou noble countenance,

Though mighty worlds shall fear Thee and flee before Thy glance.

How doth Thy visage languish that once was bright as morn!

How art thou pale with anguish, with sore abuse and scorn!

Now from Thy cheeks has vanished their color once so fair;

From Thy red lips is banished the splendor that was there.

Thus Thou hast lost Thy vigor, Thy strength in this sad strife.

Grim death, with cruel rigor, hath robbed Thee of Thy life;

My burden in Thy Passion, Lord, Thou hast borne for me,

For it was my transgression which brought this woe on Thee.

Have mercy, I implore Thee; Redeemer, spurn me not!

I cast me down before Thee, wrath were my rightful lot;

What language shall I borrow to thank Thee, dearest friend,

For this Thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end?

Lord, let me never, never outlive my love to Thee.

O make me Thine forever, and should I fainting be,

My Shepherd, now receive me; my Guardian, own me Thine.

Great blessings Thou didst give me, O source of gifts divine.

Thy Spirit oft hath led me to heavenly joys above.

Thy lips have often fed me with words of truth and love;

Here I will stand beside Thee, from Thee I will not part;

O Savior, do not chide me! When breaks Thy loving heart,

Then, in Thy deepest anguish, Thee in mine arms I’ll clasp.

When soul and body languish in death’s cold, cruel grasp,

The joy can never be spoken, above all joys beside,

When in Thy body broken I thus with safety hide.

Beside Thy cross expiring, I’d breathe my soul to Thee.

O Lord of Life, desiring Thy glory now to see,

My Savior, be Thou near me when death is at my door;

Then let Thy presence cheer me, forsake me nevermore!

But take away mine anguish by virtue of Thine own!

When soul and body languish, oh, leave me not alone,

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 enfolds Thee. Who dieth thus dies well.