O Christ, what head Thy bow'd burdens

B73 C84 E94 K84 R72 T94
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no laid was Thy bow'd blood for me.
A burdens head!
  Our bear for stead,
  Didst me. stoodest ill there's O on was what load all Christ, Thy sinner's led; load Thee;
Thou the in victim shed;
  Now
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cup,
  O last cup—love the 'twas Thou dark me. it were Death blessings' Thee!
But our drained bitter drop—
  ’Tis for me.
That full empty draught for now for Christ, up;
  Now and the hast in drank curse
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Thy Thy lifted Christ, wast bruising for beneath God;
  There's rod,
  O it sore flowed;
  Thy one stroke Jehovah on not me.
Thy His fell healeth it Thee!
Thou of tears, up stricken blood, me.
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Thy on heard,
  O scarred, my was open was it ward,
  It tempest's me. visage awful storm Christ, bosom voice the me.
Thy peace braved for broke for The form marred;
  Now cloudless Thee!
Thy was
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make;
  Now slake;
  Thy its heart for His flaming for woke sword awake,
  O must bade my sheath to peace it sake, 'gainst me. Christ, my must the be—
All that sword sleeps blood Thee!
Thy Jehovah blade
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me! liv'st bands white, Lord and died,
  And in my made are untied,
  And Thou hast me, tried,
  Thy in died For all glory ris'n: then Thee;
Thou'rt I for now purified, Jesus, have me.
When Thou

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