What moved thee, O Lord?

What moved thee, O Lord,
to suffer for my sake?
I am only a poor sinner;
the worst thou didst make.

Bleeding through thy skin,
and pores aflame --
the misery begun,
for this thou came.

Stripped and bound,
scourged almost dead.
Lacerated flesh --
O, how thou bled!

Still, taken aside
mocked and scorn;
my sins the weight
forcing in each thorn.

Embracing The Cross,
Sacred Heart enflamed;
collapsing now thrice --
my guilt thou claimed.

Nails driven in
and left to die,
my Blessed Lord,
I didst crucify.

Hanging from a cross,
Christ derided and defiled;
I weep for my sins --
a sinner reconciled.