O Haupt voll Blut und Wunden

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General information

Author: Paul Gerhardt, 1656., based on a thirteenth-century Latin hymn. See Herzlich thut mich verlangen (Johann Sebastian Bach) for other lyrics, and in other languages.

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Text and translations

Latin.png Latin text

1. Salve, caput cruentatum,
Totum spinis coronatum,
Conquassatum, vulneratum,
Arundine sic verberatum
Facie sputis illita,

2. Salve, cuius dulcis vultus,
Immutatus et incultus
Immutavit suum florem
Totus versus in pallorem
Quem coeli tremit curia.

3. Omnis vigor atque viror
Hinc recessit, non admiror,
Mors apparet in aspectu,
Totus pendens in defectu,
Attritus aegra macie.

4. Sic affectus, sic despectus
Propter me sic interfectus,
Peccatori tam indigno
Cum amoris intersigno
Appare clara facie.

5. In hac tua passione
Me agnosce, pastor bone,
Cuius sumpsi mel ex ore,
Haustum lactis ex dulcore
Prae omnibus deliciis,

6. Non me reum asperneris,
Nec indignum dedigneris
Morte tibi iam vicina
Tuum caput hic acclina,
In meis pausa brachiis.

7. Tuae sanctae passioni
Me gauderem interponi,
In hac cruce tecum mori
Praesta crucis amatori,
Sub cruce tua moriar.

8. Morti tuae iam amarae
Grates ago, Jesu care,
Qui es clemens, pie Deus,
Fac quod petit tuns reus,
Ut absque te non finiar.

9. Dum me mori est necesse,
Noli mihi tunc deesse;
In tremenda mortis hora
Veni, Jesu, absque mora,
Tuere me et libera.

10. Cum me jubes emigrare,
Jesu care, tunc appare;
O amator amplectende,
Temet ipsum tunc ostende

Arnulf of LeuvenLink to the English Wikipedia article, ca. 1230
German.png German text

1. O Haupt voll Blut und Wunden,
Voll Schmerz und voller Hohn,
O Haupt, zum Spott gebunden
Mit einer Dornenkron;
O Haupt, sonst schön gezieret
Mit höchster Ehr' und Zier,
Jetzt aber höchst schimpfieret:
Gegrüßet sei'st du mir!

2. Du edles Angesichte,
Davor sonst schrickt und scheut
Das große Weltgewichte,
Wie bist du so bespeit!
Wie bist du so erbleichet!
Wer hat dein Augenlicht,
Dem sonst kein Licht nicht gleichet,
So schändlich zugericht't?

3. Die Farbe deiner Wangen,
Der roten Lippen Pracht
Ist hin und ganz vergangen;
Des blaßen Todes Macht
Hat alles hingenommen,
Hat alles hingerafft,
Und daher bist du kommen
Von deines Leibes Kraft.

4. Nun, was du, Herr, erduldet,
Ist alles meine Last;
Ich hab' es selbst verschuldet,
Was du getragen hast.
Schau her, hier steh' ich Armer,
Der Zorn verdienet hat;
Gib mir, o mein Erbarmer,
Den Anblick deiner Gnad!

5. Erkenne mich, mein Hüter,
Mein Hirte, nimm mich an!
Von dir, Quell aller Güter,
Ist mir viel Gut's getan.
Dein Mund hat mich gelabet
Mit Milch und süßer Kost;
Dein Geist hat mich begabet
Mit mancher Himmelslust.

6. Ich will hier bei dir stehen,
Verachte mich doch nicht!
Von dir will ich nicht gehen,
Wenn dir dein Herze bricht;
Wenn dein Haupt wird erblaßen
Im letzten Todesstoß,
Alsdann will ich dich faßen
In meinen Arm und Schoß.

7. Es dient zu meinen Freuden
Und kommt mir herzlich wohl,
Wenn ich in deinem Leiden,
Mein Heil, mich finden soll.
Ach, möcht' ich, o mein Leben,
An deinem Kreuze hier
Mein Leben von mir geben,
Wie wohl geschähe mir!

8. Ich danke dir von Herzen,
O Jesu, liebster Freund,
Für deines Todes Schmerzen,
Da du's so gut gemeint.
Ach gib, daß ich mich halte
Zu dir und deiner Treu'
Und, wenn ich nun erkalte,
In dir mein Ende sei!

9. Wenn ich einmal soll scheiden,
So scheide nicht von mir;
Wenn ich den Tod soll leiden,
So tritt du dann herfür;
Wenn mir am allerbängsten
Wird um das Herze sein,
So reiß mich aus den Ängsten
Kraft deiner Angst und Pein!

10. Erscheine mir zum Schilde,
Zum Trost in meinem Tod,
Und laß mich sehn dein Bilde
In deiner Kreuzesnot!
Da will ich nach dir blicken,
Da will ich glaubensvoll
Dich fest an mein Herz drücken.

Paul Gerhardt, 1656
English.png English translation

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 does that visage languish,
Which once was bright as morn!

2. 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 favour,
Vouchsafe to me Thy grace.

3. Men mock and taunt and jeer Thee,
Thou noble countenance,
Though mighty worlds shall fear Thee
And flee before Thy glance.
How art thou pale with anguish,
With sore abuse and scorn!
How doth Thy visage languish
That once was bright as morn!

4. Now from Thy cheeks has vanished
Their colour once so fair;
From Thy red lips is banished
The splendour that was there.
Grim death, with cruel rigour,
Hath robbed Thee of Thy life;
Thus Thou hast lost Thy vigour,
Thy strength in this sad strife.

5. My burden in Thy Passion,
Lord, Thou hast borne for me,
For it was my transgression
Which brought this woe on Thee.
I cast me down before Thee,
Wrath were my rightful lot;
Have mercy, I implore Thee;
Redeemer, spurn me not!

6. 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.

7. My Shepherd, now receive me;
My Guardian, own me Thine.
Great blessings Thou didst give me,
O source of gifts divine.
Thy lips have often fed me
With words of truth and love;
Thy Spirit oft hath led me
To heavenly joys above.

8. Here I will stand beside Thee,
From Thee I will not part;
O Saviour, do not chide me!
When breaks Thy loving heart,
When soul and body languish
In death’s cold, cruel grasp,
Then, in Thy deepest anguish,
Thee in mine arms I’ll clasp.

9. The joy can never be spoken,
Above all joys beside,
When in Thy body broken
I thus with safety hide.
O Lord of Life, desiring
Thy glory now to see,
Beside Thy cross expiring,
I’d breathe my soul to Thee.

10. My Saviour, be Thou near me
When death is at my door;
Then let Thy presence cheer me,
Forsake me nevermore!
When soul and body languish,
Oh, leave me not alone,
But take away mine anguish
By virtue of Thine own!

11. Be Thou my consolation,
My shield when I must die;
Remind me of Thy passion
When my last hour draws nigh.
Mine eyes shall then behold Thee,
Upon Thy cross shall dwell,
My heart by faith enfolds Thee.
Who dieth thus dies well.

Translation by James Waddel Alexander, 1830
Portuguese.png Portuguese translation

1.  Ó face_amortecida,
De funerária cor,
Ver-vos, assim, sem vida,
Produz imensa dor.
Ó face_iluminada,
Outrora de fulgor,
Agora desbotada,
Como perdida flor.

2.  E vós pode_a maldade,
Dos homens exercer,
Á vossa majestade,
Que_aos anjos faz tremer.
Oh, quanto_estais desfeito,
Custa_a reconhecer,
O rosto mais perfeito,
Que nos foi dado ver.

3.  Dos céus, ó formosura,
Fui eu que vos traí,
Buscando-Vos tortura,
Mil vezes vos feri.
Ó fronte veneranda,
De_espinhos vos cingi,
Ingratidão nefanda,
Como me perverti.

4.  Sois vós minha_esperança,
Onipotente Rei,
Cheio de segurança,
A vossos pés voltei.
De minha vil fraqueza,
Senhor me defendei.
Sempre minha_alma presa,
Ao vosso_amor trazei.
Cecília (1939)


Portuguese.png Portuguese translation

1.  Ó face_amortecida,
De funerária cor,
O ver-vos tão sem vida,
Traduz imensa dor.
Ó face_iluminada,
Outrora de fulgor,
Agora verberada,
Qual fenecida flor.

2.  Horrendas crueldades,
Puderam vos fazer,
Á vossa majestade,
Que_aos anjos faz tremer.
Ó quanto_estais desfeito,
Quem pode conhecer,
O rosto mais perfeito,
Que nos foi dado ver.

3.  Dos céus, ó formosura,
Fui eu que vos traí,
Fui eu que_a_atroz tortura,
Da cruz vos produzi.
Ó fronte veneranda,
De_espinhos vos cingi,
Depravação nefanda,
Oh quanto me perdi.

4.  Sois vós minha_esperança,
Onipotente Rei,
A vós com segurança,
Contrito me voltei.
De minha vil fraqueza,
Senhor me defendei.
Minha_alma sempre presa,
Ao vosso_amor trazei.
Harpa de Sião (1962)

English.png English translation

O sacred head, surrounded
by crown of piercing thorn!
O bleeding head, so wounded,
so shamed and put to scorn!
Death’s pallid hue comes o’er thee,
the glow of life decays;
yet angel-hosts adore thee,
and tremble as they gaze.

Thy comeliness and vigour
is withered up and gone,
and in thy wasted figure
I see death drawing on.
O agony and dying!
O love to sinners free!
Jesu, all grace supplying,
turn thou thy face on me.

In this thy bitter passion,
good Shepherd, think of me
with thy most sweet compassion,
unworthy though I be:
beneath thy Cross abiding
for ever would I rest,
in thy dear love confiding,
and with thy presence blest.

Translation by Henry Williams Baker, 1861

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