Old Words, Yet New

We are reading our way through the Middle Ages in our history lessons.  Today, the kids and I read about Bernard of Clairveux, a 12th century French monk.  His story is inspiring, but his writing even more so.  He wrote this hymn in 1153.

1. 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 doth 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.
   
   
   I have watched one youtube version after another, weeping.  I am a big fan of Fernando Ortega, so I chose his version of the song to post here.

If you get hooked like I did, you might want to watch some other versions as well, like an acapella version by Mitch Fewell or Amy Grant, the King's College singers or this (impressive) church group.

Something about these words, 

nearly 600 years old,

 written by a man of such service to God,
moved by his love for Christ,
and Christ's immeasurable love for us. 

I hope you are moved, too.