Horatius Bonar, 1856
I see the crowd in Pilate's hall,|
Their furious cries I hear;
Their shouts of "Crucify!" appall,
Their curses fill mine ear.
And of that shouting multitude
I feel that I am one,
And in that din of voices rude
I recognize my own.
2. I see the scourgers rend the flesh|
Of God's beloved Son;
And as they smite I feel afresh
That I of them am one.
Around the Cross the throng I see
That mock the Sufferer's groan,
Yet still my voice it seems to be,
As if I mocked alone.
3. 'Twas I that shed that sacred Blood,|
I nailed him to the Tree,
I crucified the Christ of God,
I joined the mockery.
Yet not the less that Blood avails
To cleanse me from sin,
And not the less that Cross prevails
To give me peace within.
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