2. “Father, forgive these men, for, lo, They truly know not what they do.” So far His love extended. Forgive us, Lord, for we, too, have Through ignorance offended. 3. Now to the contrite thief He cries: “Thou, verily, in Paradise Shalt meet me ere to-morrow.” Lord, take us to Thy kingdom soon, Who linger here in sorrow. 4. To weeping Mary, standing by, “Behold thy Son!” now hear Him cry; To John, “Behold thy mother!” Provide, O Lord, for those we leave, Let each befriend the other. 5. The Savior’s fourth word was, “I thirst!” O mighty Prince of Life, Thy thirst For us and our salvation Is truly great; do help us, then, That we escape damnation. 6. The fifth, “My God, my God, O why Forsake me?” Hark, the awful cry! Lord, Thou wast here forsaken That we might be received on high; Let this hope not be shaken. 7. The sixth, when victory was won, “’Tis finished!” for Thy work was done. Grant, Lord, that, onward pressing, We may the work Thou dost impose Fulfil with Thine own blessing. 8. The last, as woe and sufferings end, “O God, My Father, I commend Into Thy hands My spirit.” Be this, dear Lord, my dying wish; O heavenly Father, hear it! 9. Whoe’er, by sense of sin opprest, Upon these words his thoughts will rest, He joy and hope obtaineth And, through God’s love and boundless grace, A peaceful conscience gaineth. 10. O Jesus Christ, Thou Crucified, Who hast for our offenses died, Grant that we e’er may ponder Thy wounds, Thy cross, Thy bitter death, Both here below and yonder. Johann Boeschenstein, 15th cent.; tr., anon. 208 6, 5, 6, 5 Glory be to Jesus, Who in bitter pains Poured for me the life-blood From His sacred veins! 2. Grace and life eternal In that blood I find; Blest be His compassion, Infinitely kind! 3. Blest through endless ages Be the precious stream Which from endless torments Did the world redeem! 4. Abel’s blood for vengeance Pleaded to the skies; But the blood of Jesus For our pardon cries. 5. Oft as earth exulting Wafts its praise on high, Angel hosts rejoicing Make their glad reply. 6. Lift we, then, our voices, Swell the mighty flood; Louder still and louder Praise the precious blood! Italian, 18th cent.; E. Caswall, tr., 1857. 209 8, 7, 8 l