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These are hymns for the week of Passion, but each song can be prayed as a prayer. The music for these hymns are just as beautiful as the prayers.

O Thou Who through this holy week
Didst suffer for us all,
The sick to heal, the lost to seek,
To raise up them that fall.

We cannot understand the woe
Thy love was pleased to bear,
O Lamb of God, we only know
That all our hopes are there.

Thy feet the path of suffering trod
Thy hand the victory won;
What shall we render to our God
For all that He hath done?
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When I survey the wondrous Cross
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.

See, from His head, His hands, His feet
Sorrow and love flow mingled down;
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown.
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What language shall I borrow
To thank Thee, dearest Friend,
For all Thy dying sorrow,
Thy pity without end?
O make me Thine forever,
And shoud I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never
Outlive my love to Thee!

I give Thee thanks unfeigned,
O Jesus, Friend in need,
For what Thy soul sustained,
When Thou for me didst bleed;
Grant me to lean unshaken
Upon Thy faithfulness,
Until I hence am taken
To see Thee face to face.
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Jesus source of my salvation,
Conqueror both of death and hell,
Thou Who didst, as my Oblation,
Feel what I deserved to feel,
Through Thy sufferings, death, and merit
I eternal life inherit;
Thousand, thousand thaks to Thee,
Dearest Lord, for ever be.

Lord, I'll praise Thee now and ever,
Who for me wast crucified,
For Thy agony, dear Saviour,
For Thy wounds and pierced side,
For Thy love, so tried, unending,
For Thy death, all deaths transcending.
For Thy death and love divine,
Lord, I'll be for ever Thine.
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Ten thousand times ten thousand
In sparkling raiment bright,
The armies of the ransomed saints
Throng up the steeps of light!
'Tis finished, all is finished,
Their fight with death and sin.
Fling open wide the golden gates
And let the victors in!

What rush of hallelujahs
Fill all the earth and sky!
What ringing of a thousand harps
Bespeaks the triumph nigh!
O day, for which creation
And all its tribes were made!
O joy, for all its former woes
A thousand-fold repaid!

O then what raptured greetings
On Canaan's happy shore;
What knitting severed friendships up,
Where partings are no more!
Then eyes with joy shall sparkle
That brimmed with tears of late,
Orphans no longer fatherless,
Nor widows desolate.

Bring near Thy great salvation,
Thou Lamb for sinners slain;
Fill up the role of Thine elect,
Then take thy power, and reign!
Appear, Desire of nations,
Thine exiles long for home;
Show in the heaven Thy promised sign;
Thou Prince and Saviour, come.