Bernard of Clairvaux, the writer to whom this hymn is attributed, lived from (1091-1153 A.D.) He was a hugely influential Christian in the Middle Ages and a devout monk. The images he uses in the hymn are reminiscent of the suffering Messiah of Isaiah 53.
I love the the intimacy Bernard has with his Savior. “How pale thou art with anguish, with sore abuse and scorn! How does that visage language which once was bright as morn!” It seems hard to believe that he wrote these words so long ago because they pierce to my heart as I read and sing them.
O sacred Head, now wounded,
With grief and shame weighed down,
Now scornfully surrounded
With thorns, thine only crown:
How pale thou art with anguish,
With sore abuse and scorn!
How does that visage languish
Which once was bright as morn!
What thou, my Lord, has 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 to me thy grace.
What language shall I borrow
To thank thee, dearest friend,
For this thy dying sorrow,
Thy pity without end?
O make me thine forever;
And should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never
Outlive my love for thee.
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