Ye that pass by, behold the Man,

The man of griefs condemn’d for you;

The Lamb of God for sinners slain,

Weeping to Calvary pursue.

His sacred Limbs they stretch, they tear;

With nails they fasten to the wood

His sacred Limbs, expos’d and bare,

Or only cover’d with his blood.

See there! his temples crown’d with thorns,

His bleeding hands extended wide,