Christ the Life of all the living,

Christ the Death of death our foe,

Who Thyself for us once giving

To the darkest depths of woe,

Patiently didst yield Thy breath

But to save my soul from death;

Thousand, thousand thanks shall be,

Blessed Jesus, brought to Thee.

Thou, ah Thou, hast taken on Thee

Bitter strokes, a cruel rod,

Pain and scorn were heap'd upon Thee

O Thou sinless Son of God,

Only thus for me to win

Rescue from the bonds of sin;

Thousand, thousand thanks shall be,

Blessed Jesus, brought to Thee.

Thou didst bear the smiting only

That it might not fall on me;

Stoodest falsely charged and lonely,

That I might be safe and free;

Comfortless that I might know

Comfort from Thy boundless woe;

Thousand, thousand thanks shall be,

Blessed Jesus, brought to Thee.

That Thou wast so meek and stainless

Doth atone for my proud mood;

And Thy death makes dying painless,

All Thy ills have wrought our good;

Yea, the shame Thou didst endure

Is my honour and my cure;

Thousand, thousand thanks shall be,

Blessed Jesus, brought to Thee.

Then for all that wrought our pardon,

For Thy sorrows deep and sore,

For Thine anguish in the garden,

I will thank Thee evermore;

Thank Thee with my latest breath

For Thy sad and cruel death,

For that last most bitter cry,

And shall praise Thee, Lord, on high.