"And when they had plaited a crown of thorns,
they put it upon his head, and a reed in his right hand;
and they bowed the knee before him, and mocked him, saying,
"Hail, King of Jews!"
And they spit upon him, and took the reed, and smote him on the head."
~ Matthew 27:29, 30 ~
O Sacred Head, Now Wounded
O sacred Head, now wounded, with grief and shame weighed down,
Now scornfully surrounded with thorns Thy only crown,
How art Thou pale with anguish, with sore abuse and scorn!
How does that visage languish which once was bright as morn!
What Thou, my Lord, has suffered was all for sinners' gain:
Mine, mine was the transgression, but Thine the deadly .
Lo, here I fall, my Savior! 'Tis I deserve Thy place;
Look on me with Thy favor, vouch safe 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!
~ Attributed to Bernard of Clairvaux ~
"Thorns crowned His blessed head,
Blood stained His every tread;
Cross laden, on He sped -
Pierced through His hands and feet,
Three hours o'er Him did beat;
Pierce rays of noontide heat -
In thought and word and deed,
Thy will to do; oh, lead my feet;
E'en though they bleed -
~ Bernard of Clairvaux ~
Have a blessed Lord's Day!