1 A purple robe, a crown of thorn,
a reed in His right hand;
before the soldiers’ spite and scorn
I see my Savior stand.
He bears between the Roman guard
the weight of all our woe;
a stumbling figure, bowed and scarred
I see my Savior go.

2 He hangs, by whom the world was made,
beneath the darkened sky;
the everlasting ransom paid,
I see my Savior die.
He shares on high his Father’s throne,
who once in mercy came;
for all His love to sinners shown
I sing my Savior’s name.