O Christ, what burdens bowed Thy head!
Our load was laid on Thee;
Thou stoodest in the sinnerís stead,
Didst bear all ill for me.
A Victim led, Thy blood was shed;
Now thereís no load for me.
Death and the curse
were in our cup:
O Christ, ítwas full for Thee;
But Thou hast drained the last dark drop,
íTis empty now for me.
That bitter cup, love drank it up;
Now blessingís draught for me.
Jehovah lifted up His rod;
O Christ, it fell on Thee!
Thou wast sore stricken of Thy God;
Thereís not one stroke for me.
Thy tears, Thy blood, beneath it flowed;
Thy bruising healeth me.
The tempestís awful voice was heard,
O Christ, it broke on Thee!
Thy open bosom was my ward,
It braved the storm for me.
Thy form was scarred, Thy visage marred;
Now cloudless peace for me.
Jehovah bade His sword awake;
O Christ, it woke ígainst Thee!
Thy blood the flaming blade must slake;
Thine heart its sheath must be;
All for my sake, my peace to make;
Now sleeps that sword for me.
For me, Lord Jesus, Thou hast died,
And I have died in Thee!
Thouírt risínómy hands are all untied,
And now Thou livíst in me.
When purified, made white and tried,
Thy glory then for me!