GOOD FRIDAY 171 Upon the Cross Extended Heb. 9: 28 7. 7. 6. 7. 7. 8. O Welt, sieh hier dein Leben Paul Gerhardt Tr., John Kelly, 1867, alt. (FIRST TUNE) O Welt, sieh hier Heinrich Friese, 1703 ti a with sus pend ply bused won e hath fill world, mul sore soul Lord vils so thy thy ing Thee der, ed, Thy it er the grief that now cross caused 4 I 3 Who 2 Come 1 Up is hith on der, ed, Thee? By Who ’Twill See, ing sigh bruised pon tend ex and hath and num fes know heav un con none from the must whose As woes make depth Life of bered sion eth, en Thy Blood And less Thee from ior as all ev yields count caused streams Sav Through The While caused we grief Prince I woe? ’ry pore. Thy breath. the His sands. is trans there ly cum gres flow giv bered, sion, eth en From Him Of Thy and great hath soul dire heart free His self sin With which A guish ed not ter hands. know. o’er. death. men. and rows of ter blows raised e sigh Thy Thou Sigh To sor deeds af shame and of vil by wick dost an bit 5 ’Tis I who should be smitten My doom should here be written: Bound hand and foot in hell. The fetters and the scourging, The floods around Thee surging, ’Tis I who have deserved them well. 6 The load Thou takest on Thee, That pressed so sorely on me, It crushed me to the ground. The cross for me enduring, The crown for me securing, My healing in Thy wounds is found. 7 A crown of thorns Thou wearest, My shame and scorn Thou bearest, That I might ransomed be. My Bondsman, ever willing, My place with patience filling, From sin and guilt hast made me free. 8 Thy cords of love, my Savior, Bind me to Thee forever, I am no longer mine. To Thee I gladly tender All that my life can render And all I have to Thee resign. 9 Thy cross I’ll place before me, Its saving pow’r be o’er me, Wherever I may be; Thine innocence revealing, Thy love and mercy sealing, The pledge of truth and constancy. 10 How God at our transgression To anger gives expression, How loud His thunder rolls, How fearfully He smiteth, How sorely He requiteth,— All this Thy suff’rings teach my soul. 11 When evil men revile me, With wicked tongues defile me, I’ll curb my vengeful heart. The unjust wrong I’ll suffer, Unto my neighbor offer Forgiveness for each bitter smart. 12 Thy groaning and thy sighing, Thy bitter tears and dying, With which Thou wast opprest,— They shall, when life is ending, Be guiding and attending My way to Thine eternal rest.