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Ye that Pass By, Behold the Man

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Ye that pass by, behold the Man,
The Man of grief condemned for you;
The Lamb of God for sinners slain
Weeping to Calvary pursue.

His sacred limbs, they stretch, they tear,
With nails they fasten to the wood�
His sacred limbs exposed and bare,
Or only covered with His blood.

See there! His temples crowned with thorns,
His bleeding hands extended wide;
His streaming feet transfixed and torn,
The fountain gushing from His side.

Thou dear, Thou suff�ring Son of God,
How doth Thy heart to sinners move!
Sprinkle on us Thy precious blood,
And melt us with Thy dying love.