Bound up­on th’ac­curs­èd tree,
Faint and bleed­ing, who is He?
By the eyes so pale and dim,
Streaming blood, and writh­ing limb;
By the flesh with scourg­es torn;
By the crown of twist­ed thorn;
By the side so deep­ly pierc­ed:
By the baf­fled, burn­ing thirst;
By the droop­ing death-dewed brow;
Son of Man! ’tis Thou! ’tis Thou!

Bound up­on th’ac­curs­èd tree,
Dead and aw­ful, who is He?
By the sun at noon­day pale,
Shivering rocks and rend­ing veil;
Earth that trem­bles at His doom,
Yonder saints who burst their tomb;
Eden pro­mised ere He died
To the fe­lon at His side;
Lord! our sup­pli­ant knees we bow,
Son of God! ’tis Thou! ’tis Thou!

Bound upon th’ac­curs­èd tree,
Sad and dy­ing, who is He?
By the last and bit­ter cry,
By the dy­ing ag­ony;
By the life­less body laid
In the cham­ber of the dead;
By the mourn­ers come to weep
Where the bones of Je­sus sleep.
Crucified! we know Thee now:
Son of Man! ’tis Thou! ’tis Thou!

Bound upon the’accursèd tree,
Dread and aw­ful, who is He?
By the pray­er for them that slew,
Lord, they know not what they do;
By the spoiled and emp­ty grave;
By the souls He died to save;
By the conq­uest He hath won;
By the saints be­fore His throne;
By the rain­bow round His brow;
Son of God! ’tis Thou! ’tis Thou!