1 Cross of Christ, O sacred tree,
Hide my sins and shelter me;
Claim or merit I have none,
I am vile and all undone;
I to Thee for succor fly—
Give me refuge, or I die.
Cross of Christ, O sacred tree,
All my hopes are hung on thee.

2 Cross of Christ, O sacred tree,
Let me to thy shadow flee;
Here they mocked the Crucified,
Here the royal sufferer died;
Here was shed the atoning blood,
Till it crimsoned all the sod;
Cross of Christ, O sacred tree,
Can the guilty trust in thee?

3 Cross of Christ, O sacred tree,
Type of love’s deep mystery.
’Twas my sins provoked this love,
I this matchless passion moved;
For my soul this love was stored;
On my head the blessing poured;
Cross of Christ, O sacred tree,
Now I solve love’s mystery.

4 Cross of Christ, O sacred tree,
This my boast shall ever be,
That the blood for me was shed,
That for me He groaned and bled;
Now I catch that gracious eye,
Now I know I shall not die;
Cross of Christ, O sacred tree,
All my guilt is lost in thee!