software solutions for christian media
Album: Favorite Hymns of The Firemen
O sacred head now wounded with grief and shame weighed down
Now scornfully surrounded with thorns, Thine only crown
How art Thou pale with anguish with sore abuse and scorn
How does that visage languish which once was bright as morn
What Thou, my Lord, has suffered was all for sinner's gain
Mine, mine was the transgression but Thine the deadly pain
Lo, here I fall, my Savior; 'Tis I deserve Thy place
Look on me with Thy favor, vouchsafe to me Thy grace
What language shall I borrow to thank Thee dearest friend
For this Thy dying sorrow, thy pity without end
O make me Thine forever and should I fainting be
Lord, let me never, never outlive my love to Thee
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