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
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