O Sacred Head surrounded
By crown of piercing thorn!
O bleeding Head, so wounded,
Reviled and put to scorn!
Death’s pallid hue comes o’er Thee,
The glow of life decays,
Yet angel hosts adore Thee
And tremble as they gaze.
I see Thy strength and vigor
All fading in the strife,
And death, with cruel vigor,
Bereaving Thee of life;
O agony and dying!
O love to sinners free!
Jesus, all grace supplying,
O turn Thy face on me!
In this Thy bitter Passion,
Good Shepherd, think. of me,
With Thy most sweet compassion,
Unworthy though I be;
Beneath Thy Cross abiding,
‘Forever would I rest,
In Thy dear love confiding,
And wilth Thy presence blest.