1. O Head once full of bruises,
  So full of pain and scorn,
  Mid other sore abuses,
  Mocked with a crown of thorn:
  O Head e'en now surrounded
  With brightest majesty,
  In death once bowed and wounded
  On the accursed tree:
  
2. Thou Countenance transcendent!
  Thou life-creating Sun!
  To worlds on Thee dependent ��
  Yet bruised and spit upon:
  O Lord, what Thee tormented
  Was our sins' heavy load,
  We had the debt augmented
  Which Thou didst pay in blood.
  
3. We give Thee thanks unfeigned,
  O Savior, 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.