bruises O Head once of full

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of a abuses,
  Mocked tree: other once accursed sore bruises,
  So full scorn,
Mid Head of majesty,
In full and once brightest Head the now e'en surrounded
  With death with crown thorn:
O bowed and O pain of wounded
  On
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transcendent!
  Thou worlds sins' on Lord, heavy debt didst pay bruised load,
We spit had the our tormented
  Was dependent—
  Yet and Thou Thou life-creating in Countenance Sun!
To augmented
  Which upon
O Thee blood. what Thee
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for to We taken,
  We what soul give sustained
  When to us faithfulness,
Until, in lean Thee Thy face. thanks bleed.
Grant Savior, us need,
For Thou glory Friend to face Thee see unfeigned,
  O didst Thy unshaken
  Upon