With Thorns Thine Only Crown

Two pricking briers wrack my brow:

their pangs, my company;

yet this distress cannot compare

with Jesus' agony

A thistled garland driven down

upon His anguished head

was smote with bruising reed

until His temples crimson bled

He knew the gall He was to face

yet yielded willingly;

one look on Him whom I have pierced

and all my sorrows flee

O may I never shrink away

when called to follow Thee!

For Thou endured the cross, the shame,

the crown of thorns, for me!

---

pondering the pain of sutures

compared with the sufferings

of the Son of God in His Passion,

particularly Matthew 27:29-30

titled from

"O Sacred Head, Now Wounded"