Verse 1
The Man of griefs, by all despis’d,
Loaded with pain and infamy,
Like a rebellious slave chastiz’d,
We mourn, but wonder not, to see:
He stands in the first Adam’s place,
Beneath our penalties and pains,
Of all our disobedient race
The sin and chastisement sustains.
Verse 2
His sacred flesh the scourges tear,
While to the bloody pillar bound,
The ploughers make long furrows there,
Till all his body is one wound:
The sins we in our flesh have done,
For these He doth the torture feel,
He sheds his blood for these t’ atone,
And by his stripes our souls to heal.