O Christ, What Burdens Bowed Thy Head

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.

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!