Stricken, Smitten, and Afflicted

Stricken

smit­ten

and af­flict­ed

See Him dy­ing on the tree!

’Tis the Christ by man re­ject­ed;

Yes

my soul

’tis He

’tis He!

’Tis the long ex­pect­ed pro­phet

David’s Son

yet Da­vid’s Lord;

Proofs I see suf­fi­cient of it:

’Tis a true and faith­ful Word.

Tell me

ye who hear Him groan­ing

Was there ev­er grief like His?

Friends through fear His cause dis­own­ing

Foes in­sult­ing his dis­tress:

Many hands were raised to wound Him

None would in­ter­pose to save;

But the deep­est stroke that pierced Him

Was the stroke that Jus­tice gave.

Ye who think of sin but light­ly

Nor sup­pose the ev­il great

Here may view its na­ture right­ly

Here its guilt may es­ti­mate.

Mark the sac­ri­fice ap­point­ed!

See who bears the aw­ful load!

’Tis the Word

the Lord’s an­oint­ed

Son of Man

and Son of God.

Here we have a firm foun­da­tion

Here the re­fuge of the lost.

Christ the rock of our sal­va­tion

Christ the name of which we boast.

Lamb of God for sin­ners wound­ed!

Sacrifice to can­cel guilt!

None shall ev­er be con­found­ed

Who on Him their hope have built.