EXTENDED on a cursed tree,
Besmeared with dust, and sweat, and blood,
See
there, the king of glory see!
Sinks and expires the Son of God.
Who, who, my Saviour, this hath done?
Who
could thy sacred body wound?
No
guilt thy spotless heart hath known,
No
guile hath in thy lips been found.
I, I alone, have done the deed!
'Tis
I thy sacred flesh have torn;
My
sins have caused thee, Lord, to bleed,
Pointed the nail, and fixed the thorn.
The burden, for me to sustain
Too
great, on thee, my Lord, was laid;
To
heal me, thou hast borne my pain;
To
bless me, thou a curse wast made.
In the devouring lion's teeth,
Torn, and forsook of all, I lay;
Thou
sprang'st into the jaws of death,
From
death to save the helpless prey.
Saviour how shall I proclaim?
How
pay the mighty debt I owe?
Let
all I have, and all I am,
Ceaseless to all thy glory show.
Too much to thee I cannot give;
Too
much I cannot do for thee;
Let
all thy love, and all thy grief,
Graven on my heart for ever be!
The meek, the still, the lowly mind,
O
may I learn from thee, my God,
And
love, with softest pity joined,
For
those that trample on thy blood!
Still let thy tears, thy groans, thy
sighs,
O'erflow
my eyes, and heave my breast,
Till
loose from flesh and earth I rise,
And
ever in thy bosom rest.
-Paul Gerhardt (1606-1676)
