Infinite grief! Amazing woe: Difference between revisions

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==General information==
==General information==
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This is an hymn by Isaac Watts, his Hymn 95 of Book 2, published 1709.


==Settings by composers==
==Settings by composers==
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{{Text|Latin}} <!--replace with correct language-->
{{Text|English|
<poem>
Infinite grief! amazing woe!
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Behold my bleeding Lord!
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Hell and the Jews conspired his death,
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And used the Roman sword.
</poem>


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O, the sharp pangs of smarting pain
My dear Redeemer bore,
When knotty whips and ragged thorns
His sacred body tore!
 
But knotty whips and ragged thorns
In vain do I accuse;
In vain I blame the Roman bands,
And the more spiteful Jews.
 
'Twere you, my sins, my cruel sins,
His chief tormentors were;
Each of my crimes became a nail,
And unbelief the spear.


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'Twere you that pulled the vengeance down
{{Translation|English}} <!--replace with correct language-->
Upon his guiltless head:
<poem>
Break, break, my heart! O burst, mine eyes!
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And let my sorrows bleed.
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</poem>
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Strike, mighty grace, my flinty soul,
Till melting waters flow,
And deep repentance drown mine eyes
In undissembled woe.}}''Look on him whom they pierced, and mourn'' by [[Isaac Watts]], 1709


==External links ==
==External links ==

Revision as of 20:59, 26 April 2015

General information

This is an hymn by Isaac Watts, his Hymn 95 of Book 2, published 1709.

Settings by composers

 

Text and translations

English.png English text

Infinite grief! amazing woe!
Behold my bleeding Lord!
Hell and the Jews conspired his death,
And used the Roman sword.

O, the sharp pangs of smarting pain
My dear Redeemer bore,
When knotty whips and ragged thorns
His sacred body tore!

But knotty whips and ragged thorns
In vain do I accuse;
In vain I blame the Roman bands,
And the more spiteful Jews.

'Twere you, my sins, my cruel sins,
His chief tormentors were;
Each of my crimes became a nail,
And unbelief the spear.

'Twere you that pulled the vengeance down
Upon his guiltless head:
Break, break, my heart! O burst, mine eyes!
And let my sorrows bleed.

Strike, mighty grace, my flinty soul,
Till melting waters flow,
And deep repentance drown mine eyes
In undissembled woe.

Look on him whom they pierced, and mourn by Isaac Watts, 1709

External links

add links here

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