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O sacred head, now 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!.

evelyn-rodriguez
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  1. O sacred head, now wounded,With grief and shame weighed down;Now scornfully surroundedWith thorns, Thine only crown:

  2. How art Thou pale with anguish,With sore abuse and scorn;How does that visage languish,Which once was bright as morn!

  3. What language shall I borrowTo thank Thee, dearest Friend,For this Thy dying sorrow,Thy pity without end?

  4. O make me Thine forever;And, should I fainting be,Lord, let me never, neverOutlive my love for Thee.

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