Praying for the Whole World

Friday, April 3, 2015

Good Friday

























O Sacred Head Sore Wounded

O sacred head sore wounded, with grief and shame weighed down,
now scornfully surrounded with thorns thine only crown;
how art thou pale with anguish, with sore abuse and scorn;
how does that visage languish, which once was bright as morn.

Thy grief and bitter passion were all for sinners' gain,
mine, mine was the transgression, but thine the cruel pain.
Lo, here I fall, my Saviour, turn not from me thy face;
but look on me with favour, and grant 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.

Be near when I am dying, O show thy cross to me,
and for my succour flying, come, Lord, to set me free.
These eyes, new faith receiving, from thee shall not remove,
for all who die believing, die safely through thy love.

Voices United #145
Words: Paul Geerhardt 1656, translated by James Waldell Alexander 1830
Music: Hans Leo Hassler 1601, Harmony by Johann Sebastian Bach 1729

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