248. 7s. M. Milman. |They shall look on Him whom they pierced.|

1 Bound upon the accursed tree,
Faint and bleeding, who is he?
By the cheek so pale and wan,
By the crown of twisted thorn,
By the side so deeply pierced,
By the baffled, burning thirst,
By the drooping death-dewed brow.
Son of man! 'tis thou! 'tis thou!

2 Bound upon the accursed tree,
Sad and dying, who is he?
By the last and bitter cry,
Life breathed out in agony:
By the lifeless body laid
In the chamber of the dead:
Crucified! we know thee now;
Son of man! 'tis thou! 'tis thou!

3 Bound upon the accursed tree,
Dread and awful, who is he?
By the prayer for them that slew,
|Lord! they know not what they do;|
By the sealed and guarded cave,
By the spoiled and empty grave,
By that clear, immortal brow,
Son of God! 'tis thou! 'tis thou!