Man of sorrows, wrapt in grief,
Bow your ear to our relief;
You have rod the path for us
Of the dreadful wrath of God;
You have drained the cup of fire
Till its light alone remained.
Lamb of Love! We look to Thee;
Hear our mournful litany.

By the garden, fraught with woe,
Where you many times would go;
By your agony of prayer
In the desolation there;
By the dire and deep distress
Of that myst'ry fathomless;
Lord, our tears in mercy see;
Hearken to our litany.

By the chalice brimming o'er
With disgrace and torment sore;
By those lips which fain would pray
That it might but pass away;
By the Heart which drank it dry,
Lest a rebel race should die
Your pity, Lord our plea;
Hear our solemn litany.

Man of Sorrows! Let your grief
Purchase for us our relief;
Lord of Mercy! Bow your ear,
Slow to anger, swift to hear;
By the Cross's royal road
Lead us to the throne of God,
There for e'er to sing to you
Heaven's triumphant litany.