O Sacred Head Surrounded
O Sacred Head, surrounded by crown of piercing thorn! O bleeding Head, so wounded, reviled and put to scorn! Our sins have marred the glory of Thy most Holy Face, yet angel hosts adore Thee and tremble as they gaze
I see Thy strength and vigor all fading in the strife, and death with cruel rigor, bereaving Thee of life; O agony and dying! O love to sinners free! Jesus, all grace supplying, O turn Thy face on me.
In this Thy bitter passion, Good Shepherd, think of me with Thy most sweet compassion, unworthy though I be: beneath Thy cross abiding for ever would I rest, in Thy dear love confiding, and with Thy presence blest.
But death too is my ending; In that dread hour of need, My friendless cause befriending, Lord, to my rescue speed: Thyself, O Jesus, trace me, Right passage to the grave, And from Thy cross embrace me, With arms outstretched to save.
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