1 Now let our lips with holy fear,
And mournful pleasure, sing
The sufferings of our great High Priest,
The sorrows of our King.
2 He sinks in floods of deep distress;
How high the waters rise!
While to his heav'nly Father's ear
He sends perpetual cries.
3 "Hear me, O Lord, and save thy son,
"Nor hide thy shining face;
"Why should thy fav'rite look like one
"Forsaken of thy grace?
4 "With rage they persecute the man
"That groans beneath thy wound,
"While for a sacrifice I pour
"My life upon the ground.
5 "They tread my honor to the dust,
"And laugh when I complain;
"Their sharp insulting slanders add
"Fresh anguish to my pain.
6 "All my reproach is known to thee,
"The scandal and the shame;
"Reproach has broke my bleeding heart,
"And lies defil'd my name.
7 "I look'd for pity but in vain;
"My kindred are my grief;
"I ask my friends for comfort round,
"But meet with no relief.
8 "With vinegar they mock my thirst,
"They give me gall for food;
"And sporting with my dying groans,
"They triumph in my blood.
9 "Shine into my distressed soul,
"Let thy compassion save;
"And though my flesh sink down to death,
"Redeem it from the grave.
10 "I shall arise to praise thy name,
"Shall reign in worlds unknown,
"And thy salvation, O my God,
Shall seat me on thy throne."
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