O Thou, the eter­nal Son of God,
The Lamb, for sin­ners slain,
We wor­ship, while Thy head is bowed
In ago­ny and pain.

None tread with Thee the ho­ly place;
Thou suf­fer­est alone;
Thine is the per­fect sac­ri­fice
Which on­ly can atone.

Thou great High Priest, Thy glo­ry robes
Today are set aside;
And hu­man sor­rows, Son of Man,
Thy God­head seem to hide.

The cross is sharp, but in Thy woe
This is the light­est part;
Our sin it is which pierc­es Thee,
And breaks Thy sac­red heart.

Who love Thee most, at Thy dear cross,
Will tru­est, Lord, abide;
Make Thou that cross our on­ly hope,
O Je­sus cru­ci­fied.