O thorn-crowned brow,
Upon my Lord and King!
O Saviour Thou,
A purple robe they bring
And mock my Lord
As out they cry:
(The cruel, wicked throng)
" Him Crucify! "
That one who did no wrong,
My lovely Lord.

They hail Him King,
And smite Him with the hand
Of smart and sting;
Saith one, " Behold, the man! "
It was my Lord
Who stood alone
In Pilate's hall of doom;
'Twas ever known
He'd stand there in my room,
My Saviour, Lord.

The cross He bore
Upon Mount Calvary,
The crown He wore,
Was for His love for me;
Yes, Christ my Lord
Was crucified
Because He loved me so;
He bled and died
To pay the debt I owe,
My God and Lord.