The Man of Sorrows


Part 3

I pause:- for in Thy vision
The day is hastening now,
When for our lost condition
Thy holy head shall bow;

When, deep to deep still calling,
The waters reach Thy soul,
And - death and wrath appalling -
Their waves shall o’er Thee roll.

O day of mightiest sorrow,
Day of unfathomed grief!
When Thou should’st taste the horror
Of wrath without relief.

O day of man’s dishonour!
When, for Thy love supreme,
He sought to mar Thine honour,
Thy glory turn to shame.

O day of our confusion!
When Satan’s darkness lay,
In hatred and delusion,
On ruined nature’s way.

Thou soughest for compassion -
Some heart Thy grief to know,
To watch Thine hour of passion -
For comforters in woe.

No eye was found to pity,
No heart to bear Thy woe;
But shame, and scorn, and spitting -
None cared Thy Name to know.

Thy pride of careless greatness
Could wash its hands of Thee:
Priests, that should plead for weakness,
Must Thine accusers be!

Man’s boasting love disowns Thee;
Thine own Thy danger flee;
A Judas only owns Thee
That Thou may’st captive be.

O man! How hast thou provèd
What in thy heart is found;
By grace Divine unmovèd,
By self in fetters bound.

Yet with all grief aquainted,
The Man of sorrows view,
Unmoved - by ill untainted-
The path of grace pursue.

In death, obedience yielding
To God His Father’s will,
Love still its power is wielding
To meet all human ill.

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