Verse 1
O’rewhelm’d with grief and shame I see
My Saviour buffetted for me;
For faults which I have done,
Meekly He doth th’ affront sustain,
T’ abase the loftiness of man,
And for my pride atone.
Verse 2
Confounded in the dust I wou’d
The sufferings of an humbled God
With meekest awe adore,
Insulted as my Pattern be,
And never feel the injury,
And never murmur more.