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 your most holy face,
Yet angel hosts adore you
And tremble as they gaze

I see your strength and vigor
All fading in the strife,
And death with cruel rigor,
Bereaving you of life;
O agony and dying!
O love to sinners free!
Jesus, all grace supplying,
O turn your face on me.

In this your bitter passion,
Good Shepherd, think of me
With your most sweet compassion,
Unworthy though I be:
Beneath your cross abiding
Forever would I rest,
In your dear love confiding,
And with your presence blest.

But death too is my ending;
In that dread hour of need,
My friendless cause befriending,
Lord, to my rescue speed:
Thyself, O Jesus, trace me,
Right passage to the grave,
And from Thy cross embrace me,
With arms outstretched to save.