O HEAD ONCE FULL OF BRUISES
1. O Head once full
of bruises,
So full of pain and
scorn,
Mid other sore
abuses,
Mocked with a crown
of thorn:
O Head, e'en now
surrounded
With brightest
majesty,
In death once bowed
and wounded
On the accursed
tree.
2. Thou Countenance
transcendent!
Thou life-creating
Sun!
To worlds on Thee
dependent -
Yet bruised and
spit upon;
O Lord, what Thee
tormented
Was our sins' heavy
load,
We had the debt
augmented
Which Thou didst
pay in blood.
3. When we think of
Thy suffering -
How Thou didst give
Thy life,
Our hearts o'erflow
with gladness,
With praise and
thankfulness.
When o'er Thy death
we ponder -
Upon the cruel
tree;
Our lives we'd
gladly give Thee,
And count the loss
as gain.
4. We give Thee
thanks unfeigned,
O Saviour, Friend
in need,
For what Thy soul
sustained
When Thou for us
didst bleed.
Grant us to lean
unshaken
Upon Thy
faithfulness,
Until, to glory
taken,
We see Thee face to face.
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