O' sorrowed Shepherd, tender mild Lamb,
What Truth, what Life, what love born of your word!
You King of Kings, you Mighty God of Abraham-
How so gentle, yet of Glory all our Lord?
You breathed him life, you loosed Orion's chains;
Filled the seas, the beasts and birds set wild.
When man was lost, you whom mighty reigns,
Became a child, meek, as Mary wept beguiled.
Across your brow, a crown they laughing wove,
To mock and pierce your precious skin-
Drawing forth your blood, O' Dove,
Lo'! Those very drops could cleanse their sin.
How, O' Sharon's blooming Rose,
My Strength and Song, my humble Shield-
Could you take to our intended tomb?
My most Beloved, it's Grace you wistful wield!
You rose, a Bright and Morning Star,
You rose, a Temple torn, three days rebuilt.
In loving Grace, for me you bare the scars;
This gratis Grace, upon the bough you spilt.
For Grace you Shepherd, for Grace you are a Lamb;
Praise your Love, O' Seed of Abraham!
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