O sacred Head, now wounded,
with grief and shame weighed down,
now scornfully surrounded
with thorns, thine only crown:
how pale thou art with anguish,
with sore abuse and scorn!
How does that visage languish
which once was bright as morn!
2. What thou, my Lord, has suffered
was all for sinners' 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.
3. 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 for thee.
Attributed to Bernard of Clairvaux, 1091-1153
by Paul Gerhardt, 1607-1676 (translated)
Love Tinka
(((HUGS))), love and God bless, Happy Easter,
Karla.
I never did that again, so much pain it produced inside me.
This words take me back to then.
Georg
thoughtfully shared by you!
Blessed and Happy Easter to you...
{{{hugs}}} Micke
Continued blessings and enjoy your holidays.
~Gwendolyn
I Now Deem You The Poetess of Spirit :)
Beautiful Poetic Write For Our Lord & Saviour!
Embraced ~Embrasse'
Vickie
All the best and Happy Easter,
Jill
Richard
Be always safe,
Karen
Thank you, ~D.
Hugs! Jasmin Horst