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O Sacred Head, Now Wounded
Lyrics:
Paul Gerhardt
Music:
Hans Leo Hassler, 1621;
harmony by J.S. Bach, 1729
Midi:
Mid courtesy of
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!
- 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 to
Thee.
NOTE: they really liked to
sing about their faith when this was written. Verse 3
above was actually verse 6 in the full
version.
Here are the other verses from the full song:
Men mock and taunt and jeer Thee, Thou noble
countenance,
Though mighty worlds shall fear Thee and flee
before Thy glance.
How art thou pale with anguish, with sore abuse
and scorn!
How doth Thy visage languish that once was bright
as morn!
Now from Thy cheeks has vanished their color once
so fair;
From Thy red lips is banished the splendor that
was there.
Grim death, with cruel rigor, hath robbed Thee of
Thy life;
Thus Thou hast lost Thy vigor, Thy strength in
this sad strife.
... current verse 3 here
My burden in Thy Passion, Lord, Thou hast borne
for me,
For it was my transgression which brought this
woe on Thee.
I cast me down before Thee, wrath were my
rightful lot;
Have mercy, I implore Thee; Redeemer, spurn me
not!
My shepherd, now receive me; my guardian, own me
Thine.
Great blessings Thou didst give me, O source of
gifts divine.
Thy lips have often fed me with words of truth
and love;
Thy Spirit oft hath led me to heavenly joys
above.
Here I will stand beside Thee, from Thee I will
not part;
O Savior, do not chide me! When breaks Thy loving
heart,
When soul and body languish in death's cold,
cruel grasp,
Then, in Thy deepest anguish, Thee in mine arms
I'll clasp.
The joy can never be spoken, above all joys beside,
When in Thy body broken I thus with safety hide.
O Lord of Life, desiring Thy glory now to see,
Beside Thy cross expiring, I'd breathe my soul to
Thee.
My Savior, be Thou near me when death is at my
door;
Then let Thy presence cheer me, forsake me
nevermore!
When soul and body languish, oh, leave me not
alone,
But take away mine anguish by virtue of Thine
own!
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.
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