I am swamped this week and next so blogging will be minimal. In the meantime I swiped this from Tulipgirl's site
O sacred Head, now wounded, With grief and shame weighed down, Now scornfully surrounded With thorns, Thine only crown; O sacred head what glory What bliss 'til now was Thine, Yet though despised and gory I joy to call Thee mine
What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered, Was all for sinners' gain; Mine, mine was the transgression, But Thine the deadly pain. Lo, here I fall my Savior! 'Tis I deserve Thy place; Look on me with Thy favor, Vouchsafe me to Thy grace.
The joy can never be spoken, Above all joys beside, When in Thy body broken I thus with safety hide. My Lord of LIfe, desiring Thy glory now to see, Beside Thy cross expiring, I'd breathe my soul to Thee.
What language shall I borrow To praise Thee, heavenly friend, For this my dying sorrow, Thy pity without end? Lord make me Thine forever, Nor let me faithless prove Oh let me never, never Abuse such dying love
Forbid that I should leave Thee O Jesus leave not me! By faith I would receive Thee Thy blood can make me free When strength and comfort languish And I must hence depart Release me then from anguish By Thine own wounded heart
Be near when I am dying Oh show Thy cross to me And for my succor flying Come Lord and set me free These eyes new faith receiving From Jesus shall not move For he who dies believing Dies safely, through Thy love
Bernard of Clairvaux