Text Box: Soldiers approach Him while Judas draws near To kiss His Master, without shame or fear. Like hungry, wild wolves. they our Lord belay. Our Savior betray. The rabble frenzied with fury and hate Strike blows, push, kick Him; lead Him through the gate. They spit in His face and pull on His hair, The King, meek and fair.

One soldier in arms

lifts his ir-on fists

At the sacred Face

blood purples Christ’s lips.

Tenderly His eyes

look up filled with tears

At the crowd who jeers

 

Let my heart of stone,

smitten be with grief,

0 my sweet Jesus,

cure my unbelief.

I’m sorry, Jesus, for offending you.

My God, I love You

HYMN