O Sacred Head
By Amy Grant
O sacred head now wounded
With grief and shame way down,
Now scornfully surrounded
With thorns thine only crown,
How art thou pale with anguish,
With sore abuse and scorn.
How does that visage languish,
Which once was bright as morn.
What language shall I borrow
To thank thee dearest man?
For this, thy dying sorrow,
Thy pity without end.
O make me thine forever,
And should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, ever
Outlive my love to thee.

Losowe piosenki:
Little City
Heart Of Glass (Disco Version)
Little Bit Of Soul
It's All Over Now, Baby Blue
Bed Of Roses
Mozarts Money
Two Story Town
Hurricane (part 1)