peace . love . joy

O sacred Head, now wounded, with grief and shame weighed down,
now scornfully surrounded with thorns, thune only crown:
how pale thou art with anguish, with sore abuse and scorn!
How does this 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.

Wht 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.

~ 'O Sacred Head, Now Wounded', Bernard of Clairvaux

Bernard of Clairvaux, the writer of the ancient hymn O Sacred Head, Now Wounded sought, by means of his medieval imagination, to stand before the cross. It's the finest lament to be found in the hymnal. It moves from empathy to contrition and finally to thanksgiving.

The Gospels tell us that the only followers of Jesus who stood before the cross were the disciple John and some women. They were standing "at a distance" (Luke 23:49). What they witnessed was more than a man being tortured to death. As Jesus pushed up, again and again, on the nails that had been driven through His feet, gasping for enough air to utter one of His seven last words, the witnesses were also seeing the death of all their dreams.

Until we understand this, we will not "get" Easter. To stand before the cross and watch Jesus die was to become painfully aware that it appeared to have been all for nothing. Good Friday meant not only the death of Jesus; it was also the death of all hope. It was a lived-out lament. As Frederick Buechner said, "The miracle of the cross is that there was no miracle."

The medieval poet found his way to this hopeless place and put words to his experience for you and me. We cannot count how many believers in the past have arrived at the foot of the cross with the help of the desolate words of the first few verses of this hymn.

There is no language, nor are there words to thank Jesus for His "dying sorrow". The only appropriate response is to give ourselves completely to Him, to ask that He would "make me thine forever".

This is a wonderful example of the end of lament. The joyful place at which this hymn finally arrives could not have been reached any other way except through the darkness of lament. This is not simply a catharsis; it is an example of worshipping God well.

~ Michael Card for Our Journey, April 6 2007