1 Now let our Lips with holy Fear
And mournful Pleasure sing
The Suff'rings of our great High-Priest,
The Sorrows of our King.

2 He sinks in Floods of deep Distress;
How high the Waters rise!
While to his heav'nly Father's Ear
He sends perpetual Cries.

3 "Hear me, O Lord, and save thy Son,
"Nor hide thy shining Face;
"Why should thy Fav'rite look like one
"Forsaken of thy Grace?

4 "With Rage they persecute the Man
"That groans beneath thy Wound,
"While for a Sacrifice I pour
"My Life upon the Ground.

5 "They tread my Honour to the Dust,
"And laugh when I complain;
"Their sharp insulting Slanders add
"Fresh Anguish to my Pain.

6 "All my Reproach is known to Thee,
"The Scandal and the Shame;
"Reproach has broke my bleeding Heart,
"And Lies defil'd my Name.

7 "I look'd for Pity, but in vain;
"My Kindred are my Grief:
"I ask my Friends for Comfort round,
"But meet with no Relief.

8 "With Vinegar they mock my Thirst,
"They give me Gall for Food;
"And sporting with my dying Groans,
"They triumph in my Blood.

9 "Shine into my distressed Soul,
"Let thy Compassion save;
"And though my Flesh sink down to Death,
"Redeem it from the Grave.

10 "I shall arise to praise thy Name,
"Shall reign in Worlds unknown,
"And thy Salvation, O my GOD,
"Shall seat me on thy Throne."