O sacred head, surrounded by crown of piercing thorn! O bleeding head, so wounded, reviled and put to scorn! Our sins have marred the glory of thy most holy face, yet angel hosts adore thee and tremble as they gaze I see thy strength and vigor all fading in the strife, and death with cruel rigor, bereaving thee of life; O agony and dying! O love to sinners free! Jesus, all grace supplying, O turn thy face on me. In this thy bitter passion, Good Shepherd, think of me with thy most sweet compassion, unworthy though I be: beneath thy cross abiding for ever would I rest, in thy dear love confiding, and with thy presence blest.
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