His Pain

They mocked Him as they plucked His Beard Even spit in our Saviour's Face They did almost anything That would cause our Lord disgrace Thirty-nine lashes they gave our Lord That tore His precious Skin away How much pain must He endure And what price would He have to pay They beat Him beyond recognition And placed the thorns upon His head Still the Pain He felt was not in this But something so much greater instead They drove the nails thru His precious Hands As they nailed Him to the tree The whole world turned their backs on Him As He died for you and me His Pain came from the loneliness As His Father looked away For our sins He bore were a mulitude And a price we could never pay