1 O sacred Head, with anguish
And sore distress weigh'd down!
O sacred Head, surrounded
With thorns, Thine only crown!
O sacred Head, what honor,
What glory once was Thine!
Yet even now I greet Thee
And gladly call Thee mine.

2 What Thou, O Lord, hast suffer'd
I should myself have borne;
I verily am guilty
Of all Thy grief and scorn.
Behold, here stands a sinner
Who naught deserves but woe:
Do Thou, O my Redeemer,
On me Thy grace bestow.

3 Here will I stand beside Thee;
O Lord, disdain Thou not
To keep me in Thy presence
Till death shall be Thy lot.
When in Thy dying moments
Thy noble heart shall break,
Then shall may arms enfold Thee,
Though all Thy cross forsake.

4 My Shepherd and my Guardian,
Pray, know me as Thine own;
Thou, Fount of every blessing,
Great love to me hast shown,
Thy lips have often fed me
With milk and honey sweet;
Thy Spirit oft hath made me
To be with joy replete.

5 With all my heart I thank Thee,
O Jesus, dearest Friend,
That with Thy dying anguish
Thou all my woes wouldst end,
O keep me ever faithful,
Depending on Thy grace,
That I, in Thee departing,
May see Thee face to face.