He Was Wounded

Can it be? Who would believe?
Our promised Prince lacked majesty:
Stricken hard, grotesquely scarred—
no face was e'er so cruelly marred.
Ostracised, He was despised,
as One from Whom men hide their eyes.
Beauty free—a brittle tree—
yet through Him God's strong arm we see!

Chorus:
He was wounded, He was wounded!
Praise our Servant sacrifice!
Hallelujah, Hallelujah!
We are healed by Jesus' stripes!

Though He groaned with pain His own,
our grief and tears He bore alone.
He was scourged as scoffers urged,
and by His blood our guilt was purged.
Soldiers done, God hid the Sun,
then struck and crushed His precious Son;
For the sin of sheep-like men
God chastened God, our peace to win.

Though distressed—by men oppressed—
He uttered ne'er a mild protest;
Like a lamb, the great "I AM"
said naught to those He might have damned.
Innocent, His soul was rent;
Eternal wrath on Him was spent!
In a cave, a borrowed grave,
He lay for those He came to save.

As God willed His blood was spilled:
The guilty spared, the guiltless killed.
Heaven's King bore Heaven's sting,
was poured out as an offering.
Jesus died, was satisfied,
and many shall be justified.
Throne restored, His pray'rs outpoured;
Soon all shall bow to Christ the Lord!