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.

Sin-aton­ing Sac­ri­fice,
Thou art pre­cious in mine eyes;
Thou alone my rest shall be,
Now and thro’ eter­ni­ty.