HYMNS ON THE PASSION

which can be used in the congregations during Lent

at the weekly service and on Days of Prayer

according to the custom of each place

[by Thomas Kingo]

[from the Gradual of 1699]

[Translation © Mark DeGarmeaux unless noted]

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Evangelical Lutheran Hymnary home page (ELH has 16 hymns by Thomas Kingo)

O come, let us worship (A Study in Lutheran Liturgy and Hymnody by M. DeGarmeaux) (107k)

The Path of Understanding -- The Development of Lectionaries and their use in the Lutheran Church (by the Rev. Alexander Ring)


Jesus stricken, smitten, and crowned with thorns
VIL DOG HIMLEN INTET TALE* [14]
 
1 Yet will heaven naught be speaking
While our Jesus' goes His way?
Shall their lies be ever breaking
Darkened truth by light of day?
Shall our Jesus, whom we know
Without guilt did ever go
Now be beaten, persecuted?
Shall He now be executed?
 
2 Heaven now in silence lieth
While they stretch both law and right
And for friendship now He crieth
As they turn the screws so tight!
And the judge doth contemplate
That this trial is for hate
Bringing Jesus burden weary
While true justice still must tarry.
 
3 He the people is amusing-
To their will they press Him on.
Every cursed eye be musing
Yet to see and look upon
If He now will serve them still
For their memory so ill.
Jesus with the scourge is beaten
With injustice they mistreat Him.
 
4 Whip and scourge we must remember
Beating Jesus all about
Every tired and weakened member
Till the blood comes streaming out!
Every lash brings deepest woes
To the flesh and bone it goes
As a worm we see Him wringing
And His heart within is stinging.
 
5 After all this bloody lashing
Which Him covers over all
On His body they are placing
Robe of royal purple pall
With a cloak of honour tied
They may lead Him forth despised;
Glorious God in royal clothing,
They may tread upon with loathing.
 
6 Now they place a crown of hatred
On the Saviour's sweetest head,
Which from thorns they quickly plaited
(Thorns, the curse of sin's first deed)
Sharp as sword and needle edge
Serpent's fangs, the dreaded pledge,
'Gainst His sacred temple bruising
Forth His precious blood comes oozing.
 
7 Regal staff doth now await Him,
(With a reed they Him deride)
And a crown of thorns they plait Him
On His head as show of might.
'Round His head there now do flood
Thousand springs of flowing blood;
He is filled with so much sorrow,
That My tongue no words can borrow.
 
8 Mockingly they kneel before Him,
Slap His bloody cheek anon;
Every scoundrel bows before Him
And with scorn they spit upon!
But their wrath demands much more
Fill Him yet with blood and gore;
All demand to crucify Him,
Nothing else will satisfy them.
 
9 O my Jesus, how I wonder
That my heart for Thee must bleed,
For my conscience sad doth ponder
How I scourged Thee oft indeed.
And my sins so crude and rash
Hang upon each strike and lash
Every time that Thou art smitten
And with many woes art beaten.
 
10 Therefore I will now be scourging
Every lust within my blood,
And my soul with tears be purging
By Thy gracious crimson-flood!
Now by grace I cry to Thee,
Precious Jesus, rescue me
I with faith embrace Thee gladly
While Thy wounds Thou suffer sadly.
 
11 Crown of thorns which ever stings Thee
By my sins was formed around!
My transgressions' wretched fingers,
Twisted this most awful crown!
'Round Thee harshly I did bind
With my evil stubborn mind,
Innocence from Thee now draining
Many streams of blood, Thee staining.
 
12 Therefore daily I'll be weeding
Thorns and thistles of my sin!
Let Thy wounds o'er me be bleeding
From Thy body pure within.
I will ponder on the thorns
Which Thou for my soul hast borne,
All my sin and Satan treading,
Crush them well while Thou art bleeding.
 
13 With repentance now I tell Thee
How I scorned Thee with by my hand
Help me once again to quell me
And my sin fore'er to ban.
I am but a broken reed;
Hear me, Jesus in my need.
When I strike Thee without measure,
Cleanse me by Thy gracious pleasure.
 
14 Every time Thy precious glory
As a fool I cast away
Spare me yet the wretched story
Of eternal shame to pay!
Wash it all in gracious flood
Blot it out with Thy dear blood.
That with all my sins forgiven,
I eternal life am given.


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