1 My Lord, my Master, at Thy feet adoring,
I see Thee bow'd beneath Thy load of woe:
For me, a sinner, is Thy life-blood pouring;
For Thee, my Saviour, scarce my tears will flow.

2 Thine own disciple to the Jews has sold Thee,
With friendship's kiss and loyal word he came:
How oft of faithful love my lips have told Thee,
While Thou hast seen my falsehood and my shame!

3 With taunts and scoffs they mock what seems Thy weakness,
With blows and outrage adding pain to pain:
Thou art unmoved and steadfast in Thy meekness;
When I am wrong'd, how quickly I complain!

4 My Lord, my Saviour, when I see Thee wearing
Upon Thy bleeding brow, the crown of thorn,
Shall I for pleasure live, or shrink from bearing
Whate'er my lot may be of pain or scorn?

5 O victim of Thy love! O pangs most healing!
O saving death! O fruitful agonies!
I pray Thee, Christ, before Thee humbly kneeling,
For ever keep Thy Cross before mine eyes.

Amen.