The words of this 19th century hymn, written by Anne R. Cousin capture the essence of what we call “penal substitution.” This is the biblical doctrine of Christ dying in the place of sinners as a substitute, bearing in full, the penalty we deserved.

There is a story associated with it too:

“A young of­fi­cer in the Brit­ish ar­my turned away in hor­ror from the doc­trine of this hymn. His pride re­volt­ed, his self-right­eous­ness rose in re­bel­lion, and he said: ‘He would be a cow­ard in­deed who would go to hea­ven at the cost of ano­ther!’

As the years rolled away this man rose to dis­tinct­ion and high rank in the ar­my, and he al­so learned wis­dom.

In his last hours, as he lay on his death­bed, he re­peat­edl­y begged those near him to sing ‘Christ, what bur­dens bowed Thy head,’ call­ing it, ‘My hymn, my hymn!’”

O Christ, what burdens bowed Thy head!
Our load was laid on Thee;
Thou stoodest in the sinner’s stead,
Didst bear all ill for me.
A Victim led,
Thy blood was shed;
Now there’s no load for me.

Death and the curse were in our cup:
O Christ, ’twas full for Thee;
But Thou hast drained the last dark drop,
‘Tis empty now for me.
That bitter cup,
love drank it up;
Now blessing’s draught for me.

Jehovah lifted up His rod;
O Christ, it fell on Thee!
Thou wast sore stricken of Thy God;
There’s not one stroke for me.
Thy tears, Thy blood, beneath it flowed;
Thy bruising healeth me.

The tempest’s awful voice was heard,
O Christ, it broke on Thee!
Thy open bosom was my ward,
It braved the storm for me.
Thy form was scarred, Thy visage marred;
Now cloudless peace for me.

Jehovah bade His sword awake;
O Christ, it woke against Thee!
Thy blood the flaming blade must slake;
Thine heart its sheath must be;
All for my sake, my peace to make;
Now sleeps that sword for me.

For me, Lord Jesus, Thou hast died,
And I have died in Thee!
Thou art ris’n, my hands are all untied,
And now Thou livest in me.
When purified, made white and tried,
Thy glory then for me!