O Savior, Thou who wearest
A crown of piercing thorns
The pain Thou meekly bearest
Weighed down by grief and scorn
The soldiers mock and flail Thee
For drink they give Thee gall
Upon the cross they nail thee
To die, O King of all

What praises can we offer
To thank Thee, Lord most high?
In our place, Thou didst suffer
In our place, Thou didst die
By heaven's plan appointed
To ransom us, our King
O Jesus, the anointed
To Thee, our love we bring

How shall I fitly meet Thee
And give Thee welcome due?
The nations long to greet Thee
And I would greet Thee too
O, Fount of light, shine brightly
Upon my darken'd heart
That I may serve Thee rightly
And know Thee as Thou art