Crowned with thorns upon the tree,
Silent in Thine agony;
Dying, crushed beneath the load
Of the wrath and curse of God.
On Thy pale and suffering brow,
Mystery of love and woe;
On Thy grief and sore amaze,
Savior, I would fix my gaze!
On Thy holy, loving breast
Thou dost bid the weary rest;
Rest there from the world’s false ways,
Rest there from its vanities.
Rest in pardon and relief,
From the load of guilt and grief,
Rest in Thy redeeming blood,
Rest in perfect peace with God.
Thou art precious in mine eyes;
Thou alone my rest shall be,
Now and thro’ eternity.