214. At the Cross

1 O sacred Head, now wounded,
With grief and shame weighed down,
Now scornfully surrounded,
With thorns, thine only crown;
O sacred Head, what glory,
What bliss, till now was thine!
Yet, though despised and gory,
I joy to call thee mine.

2 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 Saviour!
'Tis I deserved thy place;
Look on me with thy favor,
Vouchsafe to me thy grace.

3 What language shall I borrow,
To thank thee, dearest Friend,
For this, thy dying sorrow,
Thy pity without end?
Lord, make me thine for ever,
Nor let me faithless prove:
Oh, let me never, never,
Abuse such dying love.

4 Be near when I am
Oh, show thy cross to me!
And for my succor flying,
Come, Lord, and set me free!
These eyes, new faith receiving,
From Jesus shall not move;
For he who dies believing,
Dies safely--through thy love.

Text Information
First Line: O sacred Head, now wounded
Title: At the Cross
Translator: J. W. Alexander
Language: English
Publication Date: 1888
Scripture: ; ; ;
Topic: Christ: Agony of; Christ: Crucifixion of; Christ: Sufferings of
Tune Information
Name: GERHARDT
Composer: J. P. Holbrook
Meter: 7s, 6s, D
Key: G Major or modal



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