A Purple Robe

A purple robe, a crown of thorns
a reed in His right hand;
Before the soldier's 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.

Bridge:
Fast to the cross' spreading span,
high in the sunlit air,
for the unnumbered sins of man
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 sinners shown
I sing my Saviour's name.