Our bless­èd Sav­ior sev’n times spoke
When on the cross our sins He took
And died lest men should per­ish.
Let us His last and dy­ing words
In our re­mem­brance cher­ish.

Fa­ther, for­give these men; for, lo,
They tru­ly know not what they do.
So far His love ex­tend­ed.
Forgive us, Lord, for we, too, have
Through ig­no­rance of­fended.

Now to the con­trite thief He cries:
Thou, ve­ri­ly, in pa­ra­dise
Shall meet Me ere to­mor­row.
Lord, take us to Thy king­dom soon
Who lin­ger here in sor­row.

To weep­ing Ma­ry, stand­ing by,
Behold thy Son, now hear Him cry;
To John, Be­hold thy mo­ther.
Provide, O Lord, for those we leave;
Let each be­friend the oth­er.

The Sav­ior’s fourth word was I thirst.
O migh­ty Prince of Life, Thy thirst
For us and our sal­va­tion
Is tru­ly great; do help us, then,
That we es­cape dam­na­tion.

The fifth, My God, My God, O why
Forsake Me? Hark, the aw­ful cry!
Lord, Thou wast here for­sak­en
That we might be re­ceived on high;
Let this hope not be shak­en.

The sixth, when vic­to­ry was won,
’Tis fin­ished! for Thy work was done.
Grant, Lord, that, on­ward press­ing,
We may the work Thou dost im­pose
Fulfill with Thine own bless­ing.

The last, as woe and suf­fer­ings end,
O God, My Fa­ther, I com­mend
Into Thy hands My Spi­rit.
Be this, dear Lord, my dy­ing wish;
O hea­ven­ly Fa­ther, hear it.

Whoe’er, by sense of sin op­pressed,
Upon these words his thoughts will rest,
He joy and hope ob­tain­eth
And through God’s love and bound­less grace
A peace­ful con­science gain­eth.

O Je­sus Christ, Thou cru­ci­fied,
Who hast for our of­fens­es died,
Grant that we e’er may pon­der
Thy wounds, Thy cross, Thy bit­ter death,
Both here be­low and yon­der.