1.

O, if my soul was formed for woe,

How would I vent my sighs!

Repentance should like rivers flow,

From both my streaming eyes.

'Twas for my sins my dearest Lord

Hung on that cursed tree,

(Repeat previous line),

And groaned away his dying life,

(Repeat previous line),

For thee, my soul, for thee,

(Repeat previous line).