A purple robe, a crown of thorn, 
a Reed in His right hand;
before the soldiers spite and scorn
I see my Saviour stand. 

He bears between the Roman guard 
the weight of all our woe ;
a stumbling figure bowed and scarred 
I see my Saviour go. 

Fast to the cross's spreading span
high in the sunlit air, 
all the unnumbered sins of men
I see my Saviour bear. 

He hangs, by whom the world was made, 
beneath the darkened sky;
the everlasting ransom paid, 
I see my Saviour die. 

He shares on high His Father's throne, 
who once in mercy came;
for all His love to sinner's shown
I sing my Saviour's name.

Timothy Dudley - Smith