Here is yet another Passion hymn from the Icelandic writer Hallgrim Petursson (translated by C. V. Pilcher). You could sing it to either of the tunes called AUS TIEFER NOT (Lutheran Worship Nos. 230 or 248).
The soldiers led the Savior out,
Their band together calling
Into the hall with cruel shout;
In blasphemy appalling,
They stripped Him of His clothes and spread
A purple robe about Him—red
Beneath it blood was falling.
Of thorns they platted swift a crown,
That pierced Him uncomplaining;
Hard on His head they crushed it down,
Until the blood drops raining
Gushed forth, His sacred eyes and face,
Which ever looked upon our race
In love, with crimson staining.
As scepter in His hand, a reed
They placed with hate unfeeling;
They hailed Him King and mocked His need,
In scorn before Him kneeling:
And as they spat and smote Him sore,
Their laughter, louder than before,
Thro’ all the hall went pealing.
By Thy abasement, Lord, I gain
My royal exaltation;
Eternal honor I attain,
Thro’ Thy humiliation;
Amid the ransomed hosts I take,
For my adored Redeemer’s sake,
With joy my blood-bought station.
And so, while life shall last, Thy grace
I would be ever praising,
To Thy dear name in ev’ry place
My thankful song upraising;
In ev’rything Thy blessed will
I would with ready heart fulfill,
And tell Thy love amazing.
The soldiers led the Savior out,
Their band together calling
Into the hall with cruel shout;
In blasphemy appalling,
They stripped Him of His clothes and spread
A purple robe about Him—red
Beneath it blood was falling.
Of thorns they platted swift a crown,
That pierced Him uncomplaining;
Hard on His head they crushed it down,
Until the blood drops raining
Gushed forth, His sacred eyes and face,
Which ever looked upon our race
In love, with crimson staining.
As scepter in His hand, a reed
They placed with hate unfeeling;
They hailed Him King and mocked His need,
In scorn before Him kneeling:
And as they spat and smote Him sore,
Their laughter, louder than before,
Thro’ all the hall went pealing.
By Thy abasement, Lord, I gain
My royal exaltation;
Eternal honor I attain,
Thro’ Thy humiliation;
Amid the ransomed hosts I take,
For my adored Redeemer’s sake,
With joy my blood-bought station.
And so, while life shall last, Thy grace
I would be ever praising,
To Thy dear name in ev’ry place
My thankful song upraising;
In ev’rything Thy blessed will
I would with ready heart fulfill,
And tell Thy love amazing.
IMAGE: Tissot, James. The Scourging (1886-1894).
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