Stricken, smitten, and afflicted,
See Him dying on the tree!
’Tis the Christ by man rejected;
Yes, my soul, ’tis He, ’tis He!
’Tis the long expected prophet,
David’s Son, yet David’s Lord;
Proofs I see sufficient of it:
’Tis a true and faithful Word.

Tell me, ye who hear Him groaning,
Was there ever grief like His?
Friends through fear His cause disowning,
Foes insulting his distress:
Many hands were raised to wound Him,
None would interpose to save;
But the deepest stroke that pierced Him
Was the stroke that Justice gave.

Ye who think of sin but lightly,
Nor suppose the evil great,
Here may view its nature rightly,
Here its guilt may estimate.
Mark the Sacrifice appointed!
See Who bears the awful load!
’Tis the Word, the Lord’s Anointed,
Son of Man, and Son of God.

Here we have a firm foundation,
Here the refuge of the lost.
Christ the Rock of our salvation,
Christ the Name of which we boast.
Lamb of God for sinners wounded!
Sacrifice to cancel guilt!
None shall ever be confounded
Who on Him their hope have built.

On a desert wild and lonely,
Where no hope I dared to claim,
I was troubled, sad and lonely,
When the Burden Bearer came.

Refrain

Christ the Burden Bearer came,
Hallelujah to His Name!
All my sins He rolled away,
Now rejoicing every day,
I am trusting in the Savior’s precious love.

On a desert wild and lonely,
How He gently said to me,
“I have purchased thy salvation,
I have borne the cross for thee.”

Refrain

Praise to Him whose grace redeemed me,
From the death that never dies;
I shall tell the blessèd story,
When I meet Him in the skies.

Refrain

Oh, when shall sickness and disease
Their persecuting warfare cease;
And weakness die, and grief and pain,
And death itself at last be slain?

Doubt not that better day is near,
The suffering sons of earth to hear;
Disease and pain are born of sin.
Their remedy is found within.

Let Christ, descending from above,
Become incarnate in Thy love.
The inward ills and wrong subdue,
And make Thy fallen nature new.

Let the great Healer make Thee free
From sin’s corroding malady;
And then the life that’s in the soul
Shall make the suffering body whole.

What a wonderful, wonderful Savior,
Who would die on the cross for me!
Freely shedding His precious lifeblood,
That the sinner might be made free.

Refrain

He was nailed to the cross for me,
He was nailed to the cross for me;
On the cross crucified for me He died;
He was nailed to the cross for me.

Thus He left His heavenly glory,
To accomplish His Father’s plan;
He was born of the virgin Mary,
Took upon Him the form of man.

Refrain

He was wounded for our transgressions,
And He carried our sorrows, too;
He’s the Healer of ev’ry sickness,
This He came to the world to do.

Refrain

So He gave His life for others
In Redeeming this world from sin,
And He’s gone to prepare a mansion,
That at last we may enter in.

Refrain

Heal us, Emmanuel, hear our prayer
[originally, Heal us, Emmanuel, here we are]
We wait to feel Thy touch;
Deep wounded souls to Thee repair,
And Savior, we are such.

Our faith is feeble, we confess
We faintly trust Thy Word;
But wilt Thou pity us the less?
Be that far from Thee, Lord!

Remember him who once applied
With trembling for relief
“Lord, I believe,” with tears he cried;
“O help my unbelief!”

She, too, who touched Thee in the press
And healing virtue stole,
Was answered, “Daughter, go in peace;
Thy faith has made thee whole.”

Concealed amid the gathering throng,
She would have shunned Thy view;
And if her faith was firm and strong,
Had strong misgivings too.

Like her, with hopes and fears we come
To touch Thee if we may;
O send us not despairing home;
Send none unhealed away.

How beauteous were the marks divine,
That in Thy meekness used to shine;
That lit Thy lonely pathway, trod
In wondrous love, O Lamb of God!

Oh! who like Thee, so calm, so bright;
So pure, so made to live in light?
Oh, who like Thee did ever go
So patient through a world of woe?

Oh, who like Thee so humbly bore
The scorn, the scoffs of men, before?
So meek, forgiving, godlike, high,
So glorious in humility?

And all Thy life’s unchanging years,
A man of sorrows and of tears,
The cross, where all our sins were laid,
Upon Thy bending shoulders weighed.

E’en death, which sets the prisoner free,
Was pain, and scoff, and scorn to Thee;
Yet love through all Thy torture glowed,
And mercy with Thy lifeblood flowed.

Oh, in Thy light be mine to go,
Illumining all my way of woe!
And give me ever on the road
To trace Thy footsteps, Son of God!

I lay my sins on Jesus, the spotless Lamb of God;
He bears them all, and frees us from the accursèd load;
I bring my guilt to Jesus, to wash my crimson stains
White in His blood most precious, till not a stain remains.

I lay my wants on Jesus; all fullness dwells in Him;
He heals all my diseases, He doth my soul redeem:
I lay my griefs on Jesus, my burdens and my cares;
He from them all releases, He all my sorrows shares.

I rest my soul on Jesus, this weary soul of mine;
His right hand me embraces, I on His breast recline.
I love the Name of Jesus, Immanuel, Christ, the Lord;
Like fragrance on the breezes His Name abroad is poured.

I long to be like Jesus, strong, loving, lowly, mild;
I long to be like Jesus, the Father’s holy Child:
I long to be with Jesus, amid the heavenly throng,
To sing with saints His praises, to learn the angels’ song.

Jesus, I will ponder now
On Your holy Passion;
Let Your Spirit now endow
Me for meditation.
Grant that I in love and faith
May the image cherish
Of Your suffering, pain and death
That I may not perish.

Make me see Your great distress,
Anguish, and affliction,
Bonds and stripes and wretchedness
And your crucifixion;
Make me see how scourge and rod,
Spear and nails, did wound You,
How You died for those, O God,
Who with thorns had crowned You.

Let, O Lord, not thus alone
Make me see your Passion,
But its cause to me make known
And its termination.
For I also and my sin
Wrought your deep affliction;
This the shameful cause has been
Of Your crucifixion.

Let me view Your pain and loss
With repentant grieving,
Nor prepare again your cross
By unholy living.
May I give you love for love!
Hear me, O my Savior,
That I may in Heav’n above
Sing your praise forever.

More marred than any man’s
The Savior’s visage see;
Was ever sorrow like to His,
Endured on Calvary!

Oh, hear that piercing cry!
What can its meaning be?
“My God! my God! oh! why hast Thou
In wrath forsaken Me?”

Oh ’twas because our sins
On Him by God were laid;
He who Himself had never sinned
For sinners, sin was made.

Thus sin He put away
By His one sacrifice
Then, Conqueror o’er death and hell,
He mounted to the skies.

Therefore let all men know
That God is satisfied;
And sinners all who Jesus trust
Through Him are justified.

My sins laid open to the rod,
The back which from the law was free;
And the eternal Son of God
Received the stripes once due to me.

No beam was in His eye, nor mote,
Nor laid to Him was any blame;
And yet His cheeks for me were smote—
The cheeks that never blushed for shame.

I pierced those sacred hands and feet
That never touched or walked in sin;
I broke the heart that only beat
The souls of sinful men to win.

That sponge of vinegar and gall
Was placed by me upon His tongue;
And when derision mocked His call,
I stood that mocking crowd among.

And yet His blood was shed for me,
To be of sin the double cure;
And balm there flows from Calvary’s tree
That heals my guilt and makes me pure.

Now, my soul, thy voice upraising,
Tell in sweet and mournful strain
How the Crucified, enduring
Grief, and wounds, and dying pain,
Freely of His love was offered,
Sinless was for sinners slain.

Scourged with unrelenting fury
For the sins which we deplore,
By His livid stripes He heals us,
Raising us to fall no more;
All our bruises gently soothing,
Binding up the bleeding sore.

See! His hands and feet are fastened
So He makes His people free;
Not a wound whence blood is flowing
But a fount of grace shall be;
Yea the very nails which nail Him
Nail us also to the tree.

Through His heart the spear is piercing,
Though His foes have seen Him die;
Blood and water thence are streaming
In a tide of mystery,
Water from our guilt to cleanse us,
Blood to win us crowns on high.

Jesu, may those precious fountains
Drink to thirsting souls afford:
Let them be our cup and healing,
And at length our full reward;
So a ransomed world shall ever
Praise Thee, its redeeming Lord.

O Christ, what burdens bowed Thy head!
Our load was laid on Thee;
Thou stoodest in the sinner’s stead,
Didst bear all ill for me.
A Victim led, Thy blood was shed;
Now there’s no load for me.

Death and the curse were in our cup:
O Christ, ’twas full for Thee;
But Thou hast drained the last dark drop,
’Tis empty now for me.
That bitter cup, love drank it up;
Now blessing’s draught for me.

Jehovah lifted up His rod;
O Christ, it fell on Thee!
Thou wast sore stricken of Thy God;
There’s not one stroke for me.
Thy tears, Thy blood, beneath it flowed;
Thy bruising healeth me.

The tempest’s awful voice was heard,
O Christ, it broke on Thee!
Thy open bosom was my ward,
It braved the storm for me.
Thy form was scarred, Thy visage marred;
Now cloudless peace for me.

Jehovah bade His sword awake;
O Christ, it woke ’gainst Thee!
Thy blood the flaming blade must slake;
Thine heart its sheath must be;
All for my sake, my peace to make;
Now sleeps that sword for me.

For me, Lord Jesus, Thou hast died,
And I have died in Thee!
Thou’rt ris’n—my hands are all untied,
And now Thou liv’st in me.
When purified, made white and tried,
Thy glory then for me!

O Thou through suffering perfect made,
On Whom the bitter cross was laid;
In hours of sickness, grief and pain,
No sufferer turns to Thee in vain.

The halt, the maimed, the sick, the blind,
Sought not in vain Thy tendance kind,
Now in Thy poor Thyself we see,
And minister through them to Thee.

O loving Savior, Thou canst cure
The pains and woes Thou didst endure;
For all who need, Physician great,
Thy healing balm we supplicate.

But, O far more, let each keen pain
And hour of woe be heavenly gain,
Each stroke of Thy chastising rod
Bring back the wanderer nearer God!

O heal the bruisèd heart within!
O save our souls all sick with sin!
Give life and health in bounteous store,
That we may praise Thee evermore!

Take me as I am, O Savior
Better I can never be;
Thou alone canst bring me nearer
Self but draws me far from Thee.
I can never, I can never, I can never
But within Thy wounds be saved,
But within Thy wounds be saved.

Wearied of the desert journey
Which through pain and peril goes,
I have failed, alone, to conquer
E’en the meanest of my foes.
But the strongest, but the strongest, but the strongest,
Flies before Thy glorious Name,
Flies before Thy glorious Name.

Calvary’s blood the weak exalteth
More than conquerors to be;
Calvary’s blood the strong abaseth
Myriad hosts to bow to Thee.
O revive me, O revive me, O revive me
With a breeze from Calvary,
With a breeze from Calvary.

I will trust Thy might unmeasured
Great the work that marks Thy way;
Thou hast death, and Thou hast Satan,
Thou hast hell beneath Thy sway;
Hill of Calv’ry! Hill of Calv’ry! Hill of Calv’ry!
I shall praise for evermore.
I shall praise for evermore.

Wounded for me, wounded for me,
There on the cross He was wounded for me;
Gone my transgressions, and now I am free,
All because Jesus was wounded for me.

Dying for me, dying for me,
There on the cross He was dying for me;
Now in His death my redemption I see,
All because Jesus was dying for me.

Risen for me, risen for me,
Up from the grave He has risen for me;
Now evermore from death’s sting I am free,
All because Jesus has risen for me.

Living for me, living for me,
Up in the skies He is living for me;
Daily He’s pleading and praying for me,
All because Jesus is living for me.

Coming for me, coming for me,
One day to earth He is coming for me;
Then with what joy His dear face I shall see,
O how I praise Him—He’s coming for me!

Sing we the praises of Jesus, the wonderful Savior of men;
Sing how He died for our ransom, yet liveth in glory again;
Tell how His grace is sufficient a world of lost sinners to save;
Tell how whoever believeth a perfect salvation shall have.

Refrain

Wounded for our transgressions,
Treading the winepress alone;
Brought as a lamb to the slaughter,
Jesus the Infinite One.
Shall we not praise Him forever,
Worship His Name and adore?
He Who was slain, but now liveth again,
Is our Savior forevermore.

To Bethlehem of Judea a Babe in a manger He came;
Lived He a life of the lowly, enduring the cross and its shame;
Tempted in all points as we are, and yet without sin was He found;
God-man, our frailties He knows, and His grace doth to sinners abound.

Refrain

Glory to God in the highest, our glad hearts exultingly sing,
Praises forever and ever to Jesus our Savior and King;
No more despised and rejected, for sinners to suffer and die,
Worshipped, enthroned and exalted, He liveth forever on high.

Refrain

I was a wandering sheep,
I did not love the fold;
I did not love my Shepherd’s voice,
I would not be controlled.
I was a wayward child,
I did not love my home;
I did not love my Father’s voice,
I loved afar to roam.

The Shepherd sought His sheep,
The Father sought His child;
They followed me o’er vale and hill,
O’er deserts waste and wild;
They found me nigh to death,
Famished and faint and lone;
They bound me with the bands of love,
They saved the wand’ring one.

They spoke in tender love,
They raised my drooping head,
They gently closed my bleeding wounds,
My fainting soul they fed;
They washed my filth away,
They made me clean and fair;
They brought me to my home in peace,
The long sought wanderer.

Jesus my Shepherd is:
’Twas He that loved my soul;
’Twas He that washed me in His blood,
’Twas He that made me whole.
’Twas He that sought the lost,
That found the wand’ring sheep,
’Twas He that brought me to the fold,
’Tis He that still doth keep.

No more a wandering sheep,
I love to be controlled;
I love my tender Shepherd’s voice,
I love the peaceful fold.
No more a wayward child,
I seek no more to roam;
I love my heavenly Father’s voice,
I love, I love His home!

Like sheep we went astray,
And broke the fold of God,
Each wandering in a different way,
But all the downward road.

How dreadful was the hour
When God our wanderings laid
And did at once His vengeance pour,
Upon the Shepherd’s head!

How glorious was the grace
When Christ sustained the stroke!
His life and blood the Shepherd pays
A ransom for the flock.

His honor and His breath
Were taken both away,
Joined with the wicked in His death,
And made as vile as they.

But God shall raise His head
O’er all the sons of men,
And make Him see a numerous seed,
To recompense His pain.

“I’ll give Him,” saith the Lord,
“A portion with the strong;
He shall possess a large reward;
And hold His honors long.”

Our sins, our sorrows, Lord, were laid on Thee;
Thy stripes have healed, Thy bonds have set us free;
And now Thy toil is o’er, Thy grief and pain
Have passed away; the veil is rent in twain.

Now hast Thou laid Thee down in perfect peace
Where all the wicked from their troubling cease,
And tranquil Sabbath in the grave to keep;
Thy Father giveth His Belovèd sleep.

Yet in Thy glory, on the throne above,
Thou wast abiding ever, Love of Love,
Eternal, filling all created things
With Thine own presence, Jesus, King of kings!

E’en now our place is with Thee on the throne,
For Thou abidest ever with Thine own;
Yet in the tomb with Thee, we watch for day;
O let Thine angel roll the stone away!

O, by Thy life within us, set us free!
Reveal the glory that is hid with Thee!
Glory to God the Father, God the Son,
And God the Holy Spirit, ever One.

Let all the lost hear of Jesus,
Out in the darkness astray,
Go tell the world of the Shepherd,
Carry the news today.

Refrain

Tell out the wonderful story,
Tell of the love of the Savior,
Tell how He came from the glory,
Tell out the wonderful story.

Tell them that death has been vanquished,
Life is the gift of His grace;
Tell them the supper is ready,
Bid them to take their place.

Refrain

Let all your fears be forsaken;
Throw yourself into the fray;
Look, they are bound for perdition,
Show them the blood bought way.

Refrain

A Lamb goes uncomplaining forth,
The guilt of all men bearing;
And laden with the sins of earth,
None else the burden sharing!
Goes patient on, grow weak and faint,
To slaughter led without complaint,
That spotless life to offer;
Bears shame and stripes, and wounds and death,
Anguish and mockery, and saith,
“Willing all this I suffer.”

This Lamb is Christ, the soul’s great Friend,
The Lamb of God, our Savior;
Him God the Father chose to send
To gain for us His favor.
“Go forth, My Son,” the Father saith,
“And free men from the fear of death,
From guilt and condemnation.
The wrath and stripes are hard to bear,
But by Thy Passion men shall share
The fruit of Thy salvation.”

“Yea, Father, yea, most willingly
I’ll bear what Thou commandest;
My will conforms to Thy decree,
I do what Thou demandest.”
O wondrous Love, what hast Thou done!
The Father offers up His Son!
The Son, content, descendeth!
O Love, how strong Thou art to save!
Thou beddest Him within the grave
Whose word the mountains rendeth.

From morn till eve my theme shall be
Thy mercy’s wondrous measure;
To sacrifice myself for Thee
Shall be my aim and pleasure.
My stream of life shall ever be
A current flowing ceaselessly,
Thy constant praise outpouring.
I’ll treasure in my memory,
O Lord, all Thou hast done for me,
Thy gracious love adoring.

Of death I am no more afraid,
New life from Thee is flowing;
Thy cross affords me cooling shade
When noonday’s sun is glowing.
When by my grief I am oppressed,
On Thee my weary soul shall rest
Serenely as on pillows.
Thou art my Anchor when by woe
My bark is driven to and fro
On trouble’s surging billows.

And when Thy glory I shall see
And taste Thy kingdom’s pleasure,
Thy blood my royal robe shall be,
My joy beyond all measure.
When I appear before Thy throne,
Thy righteousness shall be my crown—
With these I need not hide me.
And there, in garments richly wrought
As Thine own bride, I shall be brought
To stand in joy beside Thee.

Darkly rose the guilty morning,
When, the King of glory scorning,
Raged the fierce Jerusalem;
See the Christ, His cross upbearing,
See Him stricken, spit on, wearing
The thorn-plated diadem.

Not the crowd whose cries assailed Him,
Nor the hands that rudely nailed Him,
Slew Him on the cursèd tree;
Ours the sin from Heav’n that called Him,
Ours the sin whose burden galled Him
In the sad Gethsemane.

For our sins, of glory emptied,
He was fasting, lone, and tempted,
He was slain on Calvary;
Yet He for His murderers pleaded;
Lord, by us that prayer is needed,
We have pierced, yet trust in Thee.

In our wealth and tribulation,
By Thy precious cross and passion,
By Thy blood and agony,
By Thy glorious resurrection,
By Thy Holy Ghost’s protection,
Make us Thine eternally.