Am F C G C
O sacred Head, now wounded,
E Am E Am
With grief and shame bow'd down,
F C G C
Now scornfully surrounded
E Am E Am
With thorns, Thine only crown.
Em F G F C
O sacred Head, what glory,
F A
What bliss till now was Thine!
D G C G D G
Yet, though despised and gory,
C F G C
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 for Thee.
Be near me when I'm dying,
O show Thy cross to me;
And to my succor flying
Come, Lord, and set me free.
These eyes new faith receiving,
From Jesus shall not move;
For he, who dies believing,
Dies safely through Thy love.
