6. Thou hast suffered great affliction And hast borne it patiently, Even death by crucifixion, Fully to atone for me; Thou didst choose to be tormented That my doom should be prevented. Thousand, thousand thanks shall be, Dearest Jesus, unto Thee. E. C. Homburg, 1659. 197 7, 6, 7, 6, 8, 7, 6 When o’er my sins I sorrow, Lord, I will look to Thee And hence my comfort borrow That Thou wast slain for me; Yea, Lord, Thy precious blood was spilt For me, O most unworthy, To take away my guilt. 2. Oh, what a marvelous offering! Behold! the Master spares His servants, and their suffering And grief for them He bears. God stoopeth from His throne on high; For me, His guilty creature, He deigns as man to die. 3. My manifold transgression Henceforth can harm me none, Since Jesus’ bloody Passion For me God’s grace hath won. His precious blood my debts hath paid; Of hell and all its torments I am no more afraid. 4. Therefore I will forever Give glory unto Thee, O Jesus, loving Savior, For what Thou didst for me. I’ll spend my breath in songs of thanks For Thy sad cry, Thy sufferings, Thy wrongs, Thy guiltless death. 5. Lord, let Thy woes, Thy patience, My heart with strength inspire To vanquish all temptations And spurn all base desire. This thought I fain would cherish most— What pain my soul’s redemption Hath Thee, O Savior, cost. 6. Whate’er may be the burden, The cross here on me laid, Be shame or want my guerdon, I’ll bear it with Thine aid. Give patience, give me strength to take Thee for my bright example And all the world forsake. 7. And let me do to others As Thou hast done to me: Love all men as my brothers And serve them willingly, With ready heart, nor seek my own, But as Thou, Lord, hast helped us, From purest love alone. J. Gesenius, 1646; C. Winkworth, tr., a. 198 11, 11, 11, 5 Beloved Jesus, what law hast Thou broken That such sharp sentence should on Thee be spoken? Of what great crime hast Thou to make confession, Of what transgression? 2. They crown Thy head with thorns, they smite, they scourge Thee; With cruel mockings to the cross they urge Thee; They give Thee gall to drink, they still decry Thee; They crucify Thee. 3. Whence come these sorrows, whence this mortal anguish? It is my sins for which Thou, Lord, must languish; Yea, all the wrath, the woe Thou dost inherit, ’Tis I do merit.