the Son of God, how He
Died on the tree our souls to save,
Think of the nails that pierced Him through,
Think of Him, too, in lowly grave.
the spear the soldier bore,
Think how it tore His holy side,
Think of the bitter gall for drink,
Think of it, think for us He died.
Think upon Christ Who gave His blood
Poured in a flood our souls to win,
Think of the mingled tide that gushed
Forth at the thrust to wash our sin.
Think of repentance timely made,
Think like a shade our time flits, too
Think upon death with poisoned dart
Piercing the heart and body through.
Photograph of Abbey processional cross by Brother Brian. Text of traditional Gaelic hymn.