o sacred head once wounded with grief and pain weighed down how scornfully surrounded with thorns thine only crown how pale art thou with anguish with sore abuse and scorn how does that visage languish which once was bright as morn  o lord of life and glory what bliss till now was thine i read the wondrous story i joy to call thee mine thy grief and thy compassion were all for sinners gain mine mine was the transgression but thine the deadly pain  what language shall i borrow to praise thee heavenly friend for this thy dying sorrow thy pity without end lord make me thine for ever nor let me faithless prove o let me never never abuse such dying love  be near me lord when dying o show thyself to me and for my succour flying come lord to set me free these eyes new faith receiving from jesus shall not move for he who dies believing dies safely through thy love 