My Truth and my Treasure so treacherously taken,
How bitter your bonds and how biting your bands,
How soon by your so-called servants forsaken,
When horrid men hurt your poor head with their hands.
The source of salvation was seized on so sore,
Then pulled out of prison to Pilate at prime.
Their battering blows then so bravely you bore;
The sinners just spat in your face with their slime.
My dear, my desire, you were dragged through the dirt,
Forced to carry your cross and wear cruel crown of thorn,
They harried your heels to your harm and your hurt,
To your hanging the back-breaking burden was born.
So sadly my Savior in sorrow must die,
Stripped naked, then nailed to the cross all alone;
They horribly heaved up the gallows on high,
Then sank it in socket that stood in the stone.
My dearest, my darling, your death is displayed,
By ruffians roughly up-reared on the rood,
Your marvelous meekness, your mercy, have paid
For healing my hurt at the price of your blood.
You fought with our foe; when the warfare was won
Friends lovingly lowered you down to the ground,
So Mary your mother must succor her son;
All wept who were there, that so wide was your wound.
My peerless young prince, hear my cry when I call:
The meaning of this day may I never miss;
My deepest desire is to dwell in your hall—
In my breast you’ll be buried, then bring me to bliss.