Alas, And Did My
From The Cross of Calvary
How marred must have been the face of the Holy One of God from His crown of thorns! How lacerated the form of His sacred body from the scourging of the soldiers…Look at yonder pillar, black with the blood of murderers and rebels…Look at the rude and barbarous beings who busily surround their victim. See them “tear off His clothes, bind those hands…press His gracious visage firmly against the shameful pillar,” binding Him “with ropes in such a manner that He cannot move or stir.”
See! The scourging lasts a full quarter of an hour! The scourges cut ever deeper into the wounds already made, and penetrate almost to the marrow until “His whole back appears an enormous wound.” A purple robe is then thrown over the form of the agonized Sufferer, and the twigs of a long-spiked thorn bush are twisted into a circle, and pressed upon His brow.
It was for me! My
Lord, and my God! My Redeemer!