O head once fill'd with bruises Oppressed with pain and scorn: O'erwhelm'd with sore abuses, Mock'd with a crown of thorn! In shame upon the tree, In glory now surrounded, With brightest Majesty!

Thou, Lord of all transcendent; Thou life-creating Sun To worlds on Thee dependent Yet bruised and spit upon! O Lord! what Thee tormented Was our sin's heavy load; We had the debt augmented Which Thou didst pay in blood.

We give Thee thanks unfeigned. Lord Jesus, 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.