GOOD FRIDAY 172 O Sacred Head, Now Wounded Is. 50: 6 7. 6. 7. 6. D. O Haupt voll Blut und Wunden Based on the Latin Bernard of Clairvaux, †1153, asc. Paul Gerhardt, 1656 Tr., composite Herzlich tut mich Hans L. Hassler, 1601 shame hast or, ble and Lord, for so te weighed coun borne once Thou col no grief down, me, fair; nance, bur from mock sa den Thy and cred O Thou 4 My 3 Now 2 Men 1 Pas van jeer Their With Head, sion, ished Thee, ed, has and now in cheeks taunt wound Thy Thy was ly on on woe that fore thee. there. glance. crown. thorns, brought splen flee this dor be Thine From Now Though For was red y ful sur my lips worlds ly it Thy might scorn sion ished Thee ed shall Which The And With gres ban fear round is trans were robbed sore bliss, right of buse now my Thee a till What Thee, or, guish, ry, Wrath Hath With was ful Thy and lot; life; scorn! Thine! cast Death, art sa I Grim cred me with thou How O fore rig an glo down cru pale Head, what be with el I That Thy Re y, guish or, Thee; to was in er, joy once strength, deem gor lan vig plore spised vis lost I and age Thy im cy, has Thy de mer men. Thou Yet, doth though How Thus Have Thee as sad me mine. strife. not! spurn call bright this morn! A 5 My Shepherd, now receive me; My Guardian, own me Thine. Great blessings Thou didst give me, O Source of gifts divine! Thy lips have often fed me With words of truth and love, Thy Spirit oft hath led me To heav’nly joys above. 6 Here I will stand beside Thee, From Thee I will not part; O Savior, do not chide me! When breaks Thy loving heart, When soul and body languish In death’s cold, cruel grasp, Then, in Thy deepest anguish, Thee in mine arms I’ll clasp. 7 The joy can ne’er be spoken, Above all joys beside, When in Thy body broken I thus with safety hide. O Lord of life, desiring Thy glory now to see, Beside Thy cross expiring, I’d breathe my soul to Thee. 8 What language shall I borrow To thank Thee, dearest Friend, For this, Thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end? Oh, make me thine forever! And should I fainting be, Lord, let me never, never, Outlive my love for Thee. 9 My Savior, be Thou near me When death is at my door; Then let Thy presence cheer me, Forsake me nevermore! When soul and body languish, Oh, leave me not alone, But take away mine anguish By virtue of Thine own! 10 Be Thou my Consolation, My Shield when I must die; Remind me of Thy Passion When my last hour draws nigh. Mine eyes shall then behold Thee, Upon Thy cross shall dwell, My heart by faith enfold Thee. Who dieth thus dies well!