Songs‎ > ‎500 - 549‎ > ‎

528 Throne of Glory


Oh sacred head, now wounded,
With grief and shame bowed down;
Oh sacred brow, surrounded
With thorns, Thine only crown.
Once on a throne of glory
Adorned with light divine,
Now all despised and gory,
I joy to call Thee mine.

On me, as Thou art dying,
Oh turn Thy pitying eye;
To Thee for mercy crying,
Before Thy cross I lie.
Thine, Thine a bitter passion,
Thy pain is all for me;
Mine, mine the deep transgression,
My sins are all on Thee.

What language can I borrow
To thank Thee, dearest friend,
For all this dying sorrow,
Of all my woes the end?
Oh, can I leave Thee ever?
Then do not Thou leave me;
Lord, let me never, never
Outlive my love to Thee.

Listen Download