Blessed Man of Sorrows who bore all our grief, In your body on the tree, ‘tween the robber and the thief. Your appearance so marred, ’twas beyond all human semblance, May your death forever be, always in our remembrance. On the cross where you suffered unimaginable pain. Where you destroyed the enmity and despised the shame. Willingly enduring it all, for the joy that was set before you. To make a way for those you’d call, for those who you foreknew. We esteemed you not, but as one afflicted and smitten. We knew not, that you must go, according to that which was written. Like a sheep before the shearer, you humbly held your silence. To be numbered with the guilty, yet knowing no violence. Obedient unto the point of death, even death on a cross. All to become my richest gain, all else I count but loss. Out of the anguish of your soul, you saw and were satisfied. Perfected in your role, meant the fathers wrath was pacified. O Death where be your sting? Blunt were your sharpest swords. As victory befits this King, see them crown him Lord of Lords. Joseph Burton
