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Good Friday. Morning.

He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon Him, and with His stripes we are healed.

From the Lesson. [Is. 53:5]


O Haupt voll Blut und Wunden

Paul Gerhardt. 1659.

trans. by Catherine Winkworth, 1855

Ah wounded Head! Must Thou

Endure such shame and scorn!

The blood is trickling from Thy brow

Pierced by the crown of thorn.

Thou who wast crowned on high

With light and majesty,

In deep dishonour here must die,

Yet here I welcome Thee!

Thou noble countenance!

All earthly lights are pale

Before the brightness of that glance,

At which a world shall quail.

How is it quenched and gone!

Those gracious eyes how dim!

Whence grew that cheek so pale and wan?

Who dared to scoff at Him?


All lovely hues of life,

That glowed on lip and cheek,

Have vanished in that awful strife;

The Mighty One is weak.

Pale Death has won the day,

He triumphs in this hour

When Strength and Beauty fade away,

And yield them to his power.

Ah Lord, Thy woes belong,

Thy cruel pains, to me,

The burden of my sin and wrong

Hath all been laid on Thee.

Behold me where I kneel,

Wrath were my rightful lot,

One glance of love yet let me feel!

Redeemer, spurn me not!

My Guardian, own me Thine;

My Shepherd, bear me home:

O Fount of mercy, Source Divine,

From Thee what blessings come!

How oft Thy mouth has fed

My soul with angels' food,

How oft Thy Spirit o'er me shed

His stores of Heavenly good!

Ah would that I could share

Thy cross, Thy bitter woes!

All true delight lies hidden there,

Thence all true comfort flows.

Ah well were it for me

That I could end my strife,

And die upon the cross with Thee,

Who art my Life of life!


My soul is all o'erfraught,

O Jesus, dearest Friend,

With thankful love to Him who sought

Such woe for such an end.

Grant me as true a faith,

As Thou art true to me,

That so the icy sleep of death

Be but a rest in Thee.

Yes, when I must depart,

Depart Thou not from me;

When Death is creeping to my heart,

Bear Thou mine agony.

When faith and courage sink,

O'erwhelmed with dread dismay,

Come Thou who ne'er from pain didst shrink,

And chase my fears away.

Come to me ere I die,

My comfort and my shield;

Then gazing on Thy cross can I

Calmly my spirit yield.

On Thee, when life is past,

My darkening eyes shall dwell,

My heart in faith shall hold Thee fast;

Who dieth thus, dies well.

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