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O Sacred Head, Now Wounded

Also known as: O Haupt voll Blut und Wunden

Authors: Bernard of Clairvaux, tr. Paul Gerhardt, tr. James W. Alexander
Composers: Hans Leo Hassler, arr. J.S. Bach
Year: 1656
Style: traditional
Public Domain
★★★★★ Doctrinally Excellent
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Theological Analysis

The supreme Passion hymn in Christendom, tracing back to Bernard of Clairvaux (12th century), rendered in German by Paul Gerhardt and harmonized by J.S. Bach. It is a deeply personal meditation on Christ's suffering, acknowledging that the believer's sin caused it. The final stanza's plea — "Lord, let me never outlive my love to Thee" — is unforgettable.

✓ Theological Strengths

  • The greatest Passion hymn in Christian history
  • Personal ownership of sin: 'mine was the transgression'
  • Substitutionary atonement clearly taught
  • Arranged by J.S. Bach — musical and theological masterpiece
  • Moves from contemplation of suffering to personal devotion

AI Theological Check

Chord Chart

Verse 1
  O C sacred F Head, now C  G wounded,
  With Am grief and Em shame weighed Dm  G down,
  Now C scornfully F  C  G surrounded
  With Am thorns, Thine G only C crown;
  How Am pale Thou Em art with Dm  G anguish,
  With C sore abuse F and G scorn!
  How Am does that Em visage F  G languish
  Which C once was G7 bright as C morn!
Verse 2
  What C Thou, F my Lord, C hast G suffered,
  Was Am all for Em sinners' Dm  G gain;
  Mine, C mine F was the C  G transgression,
  But Am Thine the G deadly C pain.
  Lo, Am here I Em fall, my Dm  G Savior!
  'Tis C I deserve F Thy G place;
  Look Am on me Em with F Thy G favor,
  Vouchsafe C to me G7 Thy C grace.
Verse 3
  What C language F shall I C  G borrow
  To Am thank Thee, Em dearest Dm  G friend,
  For C this F Thy dying C  G sorrow,
  Thy Am pity without G  C end?
  O Am make me Em Thine Dm  G forever,
  And C should I F fainting G be,
  Lord, Am let me Em never, F  G never
  Outlive C my love G7 to C Thee.

Full Lyrics

O sacred Head, now wounded,

With grief and shame weighed down,

Now scornfully surrounded

With thorns, Thine only crown;

How pale Thou art with anguish,

With sore abuse and scorn!

How does that visage languish

Which once was bright as morn!

What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered,

Was all for sinners' gain;

Mine, mine was the transgression,

But Thine the deadly pain.

Lo, here I fall, my Savior!

'Tis I deserve Thy place;

Look on me with Thy favor,

Vouchsafe to me Thy grace.

What language shall I borrow

To thank Thee, dearest friend,

For this Thy dying sorrow,

Thy pity without end?

O make me Thine forever,

And should I fainting be,

Lord, let me never, never

Outlive my love to Thee.

This hymn is in the public domain.

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