O Christ, what burdens bowed Thy head!
Our load was laid on Thee;
Thou stoodest in the sinner's stead—
Didst bear all ill for me.
A Victim led, Thy blood was shed;
Now there's no load for me.
Death and the curse were in our cup—
O Christ, 'twas full for Thee;
But Thou hast drained the last dark drop,
'Tis empty now for me.
That bitter cup—love drank it up;
Left but the love for me.
Jehovah lifted up His rod—
O Christ, it fell on Thee;
Thou wast forsaken of Thy God;
No distance now for me.
Thy blood beneath that rod has flowed:
Thy bruising healeth me.
The tempest's awful voice was heard,
O Christ, it broke on Thee;
Thy open bosom was my ward;
It bore the storm for me.
Thy form was scarred, Thy visage marred:
Now cloudless peace for me.
For me, Lord Jesus, Thou hast died,
And I have died in Thee;
Thou'rt risen: my bands are all untied,
And now Thou liv'st in me.
The Father's face of radiant grace
Shines now in light on me.