He carried our sorrows, our sickness and pain.
We scorned Him, and beat Him, and killed Him that day.
He lived without blame, on His heart was no stain.
We mocked Him, and filthy we went on our way.
He warned us of wrath that we one day must face.
We laughed and ignored him, refused to obey.
He spoke of a kingdom, a wonderful place.
We shouted in anger, were eager to slay.
He came on a mission, sent down from above
He bled and He died, and His blood removed strife
Thus by this alone do we truly know love:
For us, wretched sinners, He laid down His life.