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]

Return to Mark DeGarmeaux's home page

E-mail me for permission to use or to comment on translation and suggest improvements

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)


GOOD FRIDAY
Christ's Crucifixion, Suffering, and Death
which can be used before the sermon on Good Friday, at Matins as well as at High Mass,
and also for Vespers according to the direction of the Ritual
BRYDER FREM I HULE SUCKE* [29]
tune: Freu dich sehr
Verse 15 translated by P. O. Stromme, 1898, alt.
 
1 Break ye forth, with empty sighing
From the depths within my heart;
Nothing ever was so trying
Piercing through my every part!
For the grief my soul must bear
And my inmost heart must share
Shall be from my eyes e'er flowing
And my tongue be e'er forth showing.
 
2 People out of every nation,
All the earth's most wretched throng,
Learn ye well sin's condemnation
For God's Son must suffer long!
God and Man for us today
All the debt of sin must pay.
God in flesh for us must suffer
And Himself to death must offer.
 
3 Unto death they now will lead Him;
Think, my soul, He passes there!
See, how sorely He is bleeding,
How His own cross He must bear!
See what misery He bears
See how pitifully He fares!
See the crown of thorns around Him,
How His blood would nearly drown Him.
 
4 Ponder on His wounds so painful
Writhing as a worm would be
See His spirit pierced and baneful
How He moans in misery.
Bruised and bleeding from the blows,
Scarcely able, forth He goes
With His cross upon Him lying
On to Golgotha for dying.
 
5 Ask ye not what He is wearing
All His clothes so bloody be
Now the wrath of God He's bearing
Sacrifice for all is He!
Wicked Serpent strikes His heel
Poison in His heart to spill;
All His veins are throughly rended
For our evil He is sended.
 
6 Ponder how the cross is dragging
O my soul, remember aye
Proudly they with heads a-wagging,
Clear for Him death's darkest way;
Sharp'ning nails and whetting spear,
For the spotless One draws near,
Who though innocent must bear it,
Who the greatest honour merits.
 
7 O how mockingly they offer
Bitter drink in front of all
And His weakened heart must suffer
All their evil filled with gall!
Myrrh and vinegar they tip
To His blessed sacred lip
Even in His place of judgement,
Oh, unheard of sin and torment!
 
8 High upon the cross they lift Him
Pressing hard, they make Him moan,
And with cruelty they outstretch Him,
Arms fatigued down to the bone
Nail Him to the cursed tree,
Thus to break His spirit free,
Wickedly they leave Him hanging,
Thus His suff'ring more prolonging.
 
9 All His powers have quickly faded
Hard His breath comes more and more
Heavy with His burden weighted
Covered all with many a sore!
Fleshly strength is all but gone
Weakened arms are all undone!
How He bows His head in anguish
And His eyes with blood must languish.
 
10 No more grace and no more mercies,
No escape, no help in need!
No one for his danger pities,
Though He doth profusely bleed!
No one offers sympathies
True compassion no one sees.
Not a heart with shame is shrinking
Deeper pain in His wounds sinking.
 
11 Everyone who passes by him,
Stand ye still and mark it well
Come yet closer, now to eye him,
In the whole world, can you tell:
Was there ever such a Man
Under God's most wrathful ban,
Filled with pain and condemnation,
Satan's darts and sin's oblation.
 
12 High between two vile transgressors
He is raised for sport and shame
Cruelly mocked by His oppressors
This is God's unspotted Lamb!
'Twixt the malefactors see
Lifted on the cursed tree
All my Joy, my Life, my Pleasure,
My Salvation, and my Treasure.
 
13 Hear Him join in prayer and feeling
To His Father lest He may
In His wrath the door be sealing
Unto grace and life's bright way
For His people Israel
Lest they be condemned to hell.
Still in grace to life He'd lead them
Though with scorn of death they treat Him.
 
14 On His cross has Pilate written
Splendid title: "King of Jews!"
Envy angry hearts has bitten
All who heritage misuse.
They insist on vengeance grim
Tearing Jesus limb from limb
Though they make Him bloody, gory,
Yet He is the King of Glory.
 
15 On my heart imprint Thine image,
Blessed Jesus, King of grace,
That life's riches, care, and pleasures
Have no power Thee to efface.
This the superscription be:
Jesus, Crucified for me,
Is my Life, my hope's Foundation,
And my Glory and Salvation.
 
16 This too added to His burden
As He in such sorrow died
That below His cross He heard them
How they would His clothes divide
How the soldiers sportingly
Sought amusement then to see
Who would gain His coat all seamless
As they make their games all shameless.
 
17 If I e'er am poor and needy
If the world so scornfully
Takes my clothing for to bleed me
Yet it still is well with me.
I shall never needy stand
When my judgement is at hand;
Then in gladness I shall wear it-
Jesus' righteousness and merit.
 
18 All the while I watch and worry
As they mock Thee spitefully
And each wicked wretch doth hurry,
Wagging head so gleefully;
But, O Jesus, by Thy pains
On Thy cross of bloody stains
My disgrace and shame do vanish
And my condemnation banish.
 
19 Now repentant one thief suffers
Throes of death in steadfast faith
Thy compassioned heart now offers
Promise of eternal life.
Free me, Jesus, from my shame
When as Judge, Thou call'st my name
Like the thief in faith now dying,
Grant me grace on Thee relying.
 
20 Jesus, all this makes me wonder
As I see each drop of blood,
Deep in thought I too must ponder
How Thy mother near Thee stood
By Thy cross she now must see
All Thy pain and misery
How such shame Thy powers spendeth
Sorrow deep her heart now rendeth.
 
21 Human language cannot borrow
How the sword hath piercéd through
Mary's soul is filled with sorrow,
As she deep in woe doth rue;
How she suffers sorrow's throe
Seeing all the pain and woe
Of her Son and God's Son only
As He hangs near death so lonely.
 
22 One disciple gives Him answer
He will for His mother care
One sweet drop doth comfort give her
In her anguish, hearing there
How He still doth care for her,
She may trust His promise sure
Jesus, grant in all my sorrow,
I may trust Thee for the morrow.
 
23 Sun no longer earth doth brighten
Covered all in shades of night.
Darkness strange the world doth frighten
Day itself hath turned to night.
Jesus, sadly cries aloud:
Eli, Eli, O my God!
Why hast Thou so soon forsaken
Thy dear Son by death o'ertaken?
 
24 My soul's Light and Consolation,
Thou art cursed for my misdeed.
Wash my shame in lamentation
Thy dark suffering hath me freed;
For my Lord's forsakenness
Frees me from death's cruel press
Hell's eternal death I merit,
But for me, my Lord did bear it.
 
25 Jesus thirsts but ne'er is given
Aught His thirst to satisfy
Vinegar is all they give Him
As He tastes it, hear Him cry:
It is finished, all indeed
That the Scripture hath decreed,
All that Adam lost by sinning,
By this drink again I'm winning.
 
26 As the drops of blood are drying
As His heart doth beating cease
Jesus unto heav'n is crying
Through death's bitter stormy seas:
Father, in My dying end
Soul and spirit I commend
In Thy hands, and thus He dying
Bows His head, God satisfying.
 
27 Jesus dies and earth is trembling,
O my heart, learn righteous fear
Die then, all my wicked grumbling!
Die and get thee far from here!
God and Man has died for me
Since my Adam ate the tree
Bringing all men condemnation
But now Christ has won salvation.
 
28 Jesus, I Thy death am grieving
For I caused Thy passion deep
Yet Thy death is my relieving
Even when in death I sleep.
For Thy death my life doth make
Though I oft Thy heart did break
Still in grace Thy love doth brace me
Sweetly unto life shall raise me.
 
29 O my Jesus, in my dying,
Grant that it may ever be
That I speak Thy words and sighing
Which Thou spoke upon the tree.
Bow Thy head in grace to me
When in sweat of death I be;
Kiss my soul, sweet grace imparting,
Even in my last departing.


Send comments to: gargy@blc.edu