Man of sorrows wrapped in grief,
  Bow Thine ear to our relief;
  Thou for us the path hast trod,
  Of the righteous wrath of God;
  Thou the cup of fire hast drained
  Till its light alone remained
  Lamb of love! we look to Thee:
  Hear our mournful litany.

  By the garden, fraught with woe,
  Whither Thou full oft wouldst go;
  By Thine agony of prayer
  In the desolation there;
  By the dire and deep distress
  Of that mystery fathomless:
  Lord, our tears in mercy see;
  Hearken to our litany.

  By the chalice brimming o'er
  With disgrace and torment sore;
  By those lips which fain would pray
  That it might would pass away;
  By the heart which drank it dry,
  Lest a rebel race should die;
  By Thy pithy, Lord, our plea:
  Hear our solemn litany.

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