Saturday, November 01, 2003

Stricken, smitten and afflicted: See Him dying on a tree;
'Tis the Christ by man rejected, yes, my soul, 'tis He, 'tis He!
'Tis the long expected Prophet, David's Son and David's Lord;
By His Son God now has spoken, 'tis the true and faithful Word!

Tell me, ye who hear His groaning, was there ever grief like His?
Friends through fear His cause disowning, foes insulting His distress.
Many hands were raised to wound Him, none would interpose to save,
But the dearest stroke that pierced Him was the stroke His Father gave.

Ye who think of sin but lightly, nor suppose the evil great,
Here may view its nature rightly, here its cost may estimate:
Mark the sacrifice appointed, see who bears the crushing load.
'Tis the Word, the Lord's anointed: Son of Man and Son of God.

Here we have a firm foundation, here the refuge of the lost:
Christ the Rock of our Foundation, His the Name in which we trust.
Lamb of God, for sinners wounded, sacrificed to cancel guilt,
None shall ever be confounded, who on Him their hopes have built.

--unknown poet.

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