O Sacred Head, Surrounded
By Crown Of Piercing Thorn!
O Bleeding Head, So Wounded,
Reviled And Put To Scorn!
Our Sins Have Marred The Glory
Of Thy Most Holy Face,
Yet Angel Hosts Adore Thee
And Tremble As They Gaze

I See Thy Strength And Vigor
All Fading In The Strife,
And Death With Cruel Rigor,
Bereaving Thee Of Life;
O Agony And Dying!
O Love To Sinners Free!
Jesus, All Grace Supplying,
O Turn Thy Face On Me.

In This Thy Bitter Passion,
Good Shepherd, Think Of Me
With Thy Most Sweet Compassion,
Unworthy Though I Be:
Beneath Thy Cross Abiding
For Ever Would I Rest,
In Thy Dear Love Confiding,
And With Thy Presence Blest.