Oh! what have I to do with Thee?
OH what have I to do with thee,Thou pallid, pallid crucifix?My sins are past all memory,My soul fit only for the Styx.Oh what have I to do with thee,Hanging so limp and stark and cold?To whom the world in revelryLooks up ere quickly it grows old.Oh what have I to do with thee?The bloody sweat from off thy browBears witness of thy death for me,Who am so thankless to thee now.Oh what have I to do with thee,Thou death-pale Christ still fresh with youth,Drooping thy head in agonyAnd anguish for the name of truth?Oh what have I to do with thee,Thou pierced by nail and bruised by thong?Yet spare me in my misery,For I am weak whilst thou art strong.
OH what have I to do with thee,Thou pallid, pallid crucifix?My sins are past all memory,My soul fit only for the Styx.Oh what have I to do with thee,Hanging so limp and stark and cold?To whom the world in revelryLooks up ere quickly it grows old.Oh what have I to do with thee?The bloody sweat from off thy browBears witness of thy death for me,Who am so thankless to thee now.Oh what have I to do with thee,Thou death-pale Christ still fresh with youth,Drooping thy head in agonyAnd anguish for the name of truth?Oh what have I to do with thee,Thou pierced by nail and bruised by thong?Yet spare me in my misery,For I am weak whilst thou art strong.
OH what have I to do with thee,Thou pallid, pallid crucifix?My sins are past all memory,My soul fit only for the Styx.
OH what have I to do with thee,
Thou pallid, pallid crucifix?
My sins are past all memory,
My soul fit only for the Styx.
Oh what have I to do with thee,Hanging so limp and stark and cold?To whom the world in revelryLooks up ere quickly it grows old.
Oh what have I to do with thee,
Hanging so limp and stark and cold?
To whom the world in revelry
Looks up ere quickly it grows old.
Oh what have I to do with thee?The bloody sweat from off thy browBears witness of thy death for me,Who am so thankless to thee now.
Oh what have I to do with thee?
The bloody sweat from off thy brow
Bears witness of thy death for me,
Who am so thankless to thee now.
Oh what have I to do with thee,Thou death-pale Christ still fresh with youth,Drooping thy head in agonyAnd anguish for the name of truth?
Oh what have I to do with thee,
Thou death-pale Christ still fresh with youth,
Drooping thy head in agony
And anguish for the name of truth?
Oh what have I to do with thee,Thou pierced by nail and bruised by thong?Yet spare me in my misery,For I am weak whilst thou art strong.
Oh what have I to do with thee,
Thou pierced by nail and bruised by thong?
Yet spare me in my misery,
For I am weak whilst thou art strong.