| The plowers plowed upon My back: they made long their furrows. (Psa. 129:3) |
| I gave My back to the smiters, and My cheeks to them that plucked off the hair: I hid not My face from shame and spitting. (Isa. 50:6) |
| When he had scourged Jesus, he delivered Him to be crucified. And they spit upon Him, and took the reed, and smote Him on the head. (Matt. 27:26,30) |
O Head! once full of bruises,
So full of pain and scorn,
Mid other sore abuses
Mocked with a crown of thorn;
O Head! e’en now surrounded
With brightest majesty,
In death once bowed and wounded
On the accursed tree. |
