Suffering Son of Man, be near me,
In my suf­fer­ings to sus­tain;
In my sor­er griefs to cheer me
By Thy more than mor­tal pain.
Call to mind that un­known ang­uish
In Thy days of flesh be­low,
When Thy trou­bled soul did lang­uish
Under a whole world of woe.

By Thy faint­ing in the gar­den,
By Thy dread­ful death, I pray,
Write up­on my heart Thy par­don,
Take my sins and fears away.
By the tra­vail of Thy Spi­rit,
By Thine out­cry on the tree,
By Thine ago­niz­ing mer­it,
Gracious Lord, re­mem­ber me!

Full of trem­bling ex­pec­ta­tion,
Feeling much, and fear­ing more;
Author, God of my sal­va­tion,
I thy time­ly aid im­plore:
Suffering Son of Man, be near me,
All my suf­fer­ing to sus­tain;
By thy sor­er griefs to cheer me,
By thy more than mor­tal pain.

Call to mind that un­known ang­uish,
In thy days of flesh be­low,
When thy trou­bled soul did lang­uish
Under a whole world of woe;
When thou didst our curse in­her­it,
Groan be­neath our guil­ty load,
Burthen’d with a wound­ed spi­rit,
Bruis’d by all the wrath of God.

By thy most se­vere temp­ta­tion
In that dark Sa­tan­ic hour,
By thy last mys­te­ri­ous pas­sion,
Screen me from the ad­verse pow­er:
By thy faint­ing in the gard­en,
By thy bloody sweat, I pray,
Write up­on my heart the par­don;
Take my sins and fears away.

By the tra­vail of thy Spi­rit,
By thine out­cry on the tree,
By thine ago­niz­ing mer­it,
In my pangs re­mem­ber me!
By thy death I Thee con­jure,
A weak, dy­ing soul be­friend;
Make me pa­tient to en­dure,
Make me faith­ful to the end.