O head, once filled with bruises

O head, once filled with bruises, Oppressed with pain and scorn, O'erwhelmed with sore abuses, Mocked with a crown of thorn! O Head, to death once wounded In shame upon the tree, In glory now surrounded With brightest majesty.

Thou Lord of all transcendent, Thou life-creating Sun To worlds on Thee dependent, Yet bruised and spit upon! O Lord! what Thee tormented Was our sin's heavy load; We had the debt augmented Which Thou didst pay in blood.

We give Thee thanks unfeigned Lord Jesus, Friend in need! For what Thy soul sustained When Thou for us didst bleed; Grant us to lean unshaken Upon Thy faithfulness, Until, to glory taken, We see Thee face to face.