EXTENDED on a cursèd tree,
   Besmeared with dust, and sweat, and blood,
See there, the King of glory see!
    Sinks and expires the Son of God.
2  Who, who, my Saviour, this has done?
    Who would Thy sacred body wound?
No guilt Thy spotless heart has known,
    No guile has in Thy lips been found.
3  I, I alone, have done the deed!
    ’Tis I Thy sacred flesh have torn;
My sins have caused Thee, Lord, to bleed,
    Pointed the nail, and fixed the thorn.
4  Too much to Thee I cannot give;
    Too much I cannot do for Thee;
Let all Thy love, and all Thy grief,
    Grav’n on my heart for ever be!
5  Still let Thy tears, Thy groans, Thy sighs,
    O’erflow my eyes, and move my breast,
Till loosed from flesh and earth I rise,
    And ever in Thy presence rest.
Paul Gerhardt, 1607-76,
tr John Wesley, 1703-91