Good Friday Hymns

When I survey the wondrous cross

When I survey the wondrous cross

On which the Prince of Glory died,

My richest gain I count but loss,

And pour contempt on all my pride.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,

Save in the death of Christ my God.

All the vain things that charm me most,

I sacrifice them to His blood.

See from His head, His hands, His feet,

Sorrow and love flow mingled down

Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,

Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

His dying crimson, like a robe,

spreads o’er his body on the tree;

then am I dead to all the globe,

and all the globe is dead to me.

Were the whole realm of nature mine,

That were an offering far too small,

Love so amazing, so divine,

Demands my soul, my life, my all.

Isaac Watts

Oh to see the dawn

Oh, to see the dawn

Of the darkest day:

Christ on the road to Calvary.

Tried by sinful men,

Torn and beaten, then

Nailed to a cross of wood.

This, the power of the cross:

Christ became sin for us.

Took the blame, bore the wrath –

We stand forgiven at the cross.

Oh, to see the pain

Written on Your face,

Bearing the awesome weight of sin.

Every bitter thought,

Every evil deed

Crowning Your bloodstained brow.

This, the power of the cross:

Christ became sin for us.

Took the blame, bore the wrath –

We stand forgiven at the cross.

Now the daylight flees,

Now the ground beneath

Quakes as its Maker bows His head.

Curtain torn in two,

Dead are raised to life;

‘Finished!’ the victory cry.

This, the power of the cross:

Christ became sin for us.

Took the blame, bore the wrath –

We stand forgiven at the cross.

Oh, to see my name

Written in the wounds,

For through Your suffering I am free.

Death is crushed to death,

Life is mine to live,

Won through Your selfless love.

This, the power of the cross:

Christ became sin for us.

Took the blame, bore the wrath –

We stand forgiven at the cross.

Oh, to see my name

Written in the wounds,

For through Your suffering I am free.

Death is crushed to death,

Life is mine to live,

Won through Your selfless love.

This, the power of the cross:

Son of God – slain for us.

What a love! What a cost!

We stand forgiven at the cross.

Keith Getty & Stuart Townend

O SACRED head, sore wounded

O SACRED head, sore wounded,

with grief and shame weighed down;

royal head, surrounded

with thorns, thy only crown;

Lord of life and glory:

what bliss till now was thine!

read the wondrous story,

I joy to call thee mine.

What thou, my Lord, hast suffered,

was all for sinner’s gain;

mine, mine was the transgression,

but thine the deadly pain.

By this, thy bitter passion,

Good Shepherd, think on me;

vouchsafe to me compassion,

unworthy though I be.

For this thy dying sorrow,

O Jesus, dearest friend,

O make me thine for ever,

and, should I fainting be,

what language shall I borrow

to thank thee without end?

Lord, let me never, never

outlive my love to thee.

Be near when I am dying,

and show thy cross to me

that I, for succour flying,

may rest my eyes on thee.

My Lord, thy grace receiving,

let faith my fears dispel,

that I may die believing,

and in thee, Lord, die well.

Paul Gerhardt

Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

Oh, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble;

Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

Were you there when they nailed him to the tree?

Were you there when they nailed him to the tree?

Oh, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble;

Were you there when they nailed him to the tree?

Were you there when they pierced him in the side?

Were you there when they pierced him in the side?

Oh, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble;

Were you there when they pierced him in the side?

Were you there when the sun refused to shine?

Were you there when the sun refused to shine?

Oh, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble;

Were you there when the sun refused to shine?

Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?

Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?

Oh, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble;

Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?

Were you there when God raised him from the dead?

Were you there when God raised him from the dead?

Oh, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble;

Were you there when God raised him from the dead?

American Folk Hymn

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