1 Now let our lips with holy fear And mournful pleasure sing The sufferings of our great High-Priest, The sorrows of our King.
2 He sinks in floods of deep distress: How high the waters rise! While to his heavenly Father's ear He sends perpetual cries.
3 "Hear me, O Lord, and save thy Son, "Nor hide thy shining face; "Why should thy favorite look like one "Forsaken of thy grace?
4 "With rage they persecute the man "That groans beneath thy wound, "While for a sacrifice I pour "My life upon the ground.
5 "They tread my honour to the dust, "And laugh when I complain "Their sharp insulting slanders add "Fresh anguish to my pain.
6 "All my reproach is known to thee, "The scandal and the shame; "Reproach has broke my bleeding heart, "And lies defil'd my Name.
7 "I look'd for pity, but in vain; "My kindred are my grief! "I ask my friends for comfort round, "But meet with no relief.
8 "With vinegar they mock my thirst; "They give me gall for food; "And sporting with my dying groans, "They triumph in my blood.
9 "Shine into my distressed soul, "Let thy compassion save; "And tho' my flesh sink down to death, "Redeem it from the grave.
10 "I shall arise to praise thy Name, "Shall reign in worlds unknown; "And thy salvation, O my God, "Shall seat me on thy throne."