O sac – red Head, now wound - ed
With grief and shame weighed down
Now scorn – ful - ly sur – round - ed
With thorns, Thine only crown
How pale Thou art with anguish
With sore a - buse and scorn
How does that vis - age lang - uish
Which once was bright as morn
What Thou, my Lord, hast suf - fered
Was all for sinners’ gain
Mine, mine was the trans - gres - sion
But Thine the deadly pain
Lo, here I fall, my Savior
’Tis I de - serve Thy place
Look on me with Thy fa - vor
Vouch - safe to me Thy grace
What lang - uage shall I bor - row
To thank Thee, dearest friend
For this Thy dy - ing sor - row
Thy pity without end
O make me Thine for - ever
And should I fainting be
Lord, let me ne - ver, ne - ver
Out - live my love to Thee