At the foot of the Cross where my Saviour is bleeding,

By faith let me now with His followers bend;

Let me hear for my pardon His voice interceding,

And see, for my sins, these dear life-drops descend.

As when His fierce murderers mocked and defied Him,

The Maries still clung to their Master adored,

Nor for thrones would have quitted their station beside Him,

Their long mournful watch by their crucified Lord;

So, unmoved by the scoffs of the foe and blasphemer,

I would muse upon all that my Saviour hath borne;

Permitted to watch by the dying Redeemer,

And gaze on that pale brow encircled with thorn.