Upon the cross ex­tend­ed,
See, world, thy Lord sus­pend­ed.
Thy Sav­ior yields His breath.
The Prince of Life from Hea­ven
Himself hath free­ly giv­en
To shame and blows and bit­ter death.

Come hi­ther now and pon­der,
’Twill fill thy soul with won­der,
Blood streams from ev­ery pore.
Through grief whose depth none know­eth,
From His great heart there flow­eth
Sigh af­ter sigh of ang­uish o’er.

Who is it that hath bruised Thee?
Who hath so sore abused Thee
And caused Thee all Thy woe?
While we must make con­fess­ion
Of sin and dire trans­gress­ion,
Thou deeds of ev­il dost not know.

I caused Thy grief and sigh­ing
By ev­ils mul­ti­ply­ing
As count­less as the sands.
I caused the woes un­num­bered
With which Thy soul is cum­bered,
Thy sor­rows raised by wick­ed hands.

’Tis I who should be smit­ten,
My doom should here be writ­ten;
Bound hand and foot in hell.
The fet­ters and the scourg­ing,
The floods around Thee surg­ing,
’Tis I who have de­served them well.

The load Thou tak­est on Thee,
That pressed so sore­ly on me,
It crushed me to the ground.
The cross for me en­dur­ing,
The crown for me se­cur­ing,
My heal­ing in Thy wounds is found.

A crown of thorns Thou wear­est,
My shame and scorn Thou bear­est,
That I might ran­somed be.
My bonds­man, ev­er will­ing,
My place with pa­tience fill­ing,
From sin and guilt hast made me free.

Thy cords of love, my Sav­ior,
Bind me to Thee for­ev­er,
I am no long­er mine.
To Thee I glad­ly ten­der
All that my life can ren­der
And all I have to Thee re­sign.

Thy cross I’ll place be­fore me,
Its sav­ing pow­er be o’er me,
Wherever I may be;
Thine in­no­cence re­veal­ing,
Thy love and mer­cy seal­ing,
The pledge of truth and con­stan­cy.

How God at our trans­gress­ion
To an­ger gives ex­press­ion,
How loud His thun­ders roll,
How fear­ful­ly He smit­eth,
How sore­ly He re­quiteth—
All this Thy suf­fer­ings teach my soul.

When ev­il men re­vile me,
With wick­ed tongues de­file me,
I’ll curb my venge­ful heart.
The un­just wrong I’ll suf­fer,
Unto my neigh­bor offer
Forgiveness of each bit­ter smart.

Thy groan­ing and Thy sigh­ing,
Thy bit­ter tears and dy­ing,
With which Thou was op­pressed—
They shall, when life is end­ing,
Be guid­ing and at­tending
My way to Thine eter­nal rest.