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