No, Pilate! not thy stern decree,
Rome’s mandate echoing wide,
Storm-tossed by many a mocking lip—
“Let Him be crucified!”
Thy voice condemned Him to His death,
That guilt thy soul must bear;
But I have crucified my Lord,
‘Twas my sins nailed Him there.
‘Twas mine to bind that holy brow
With crown of cruel thorn;
‘Twas mine to wound that loving heart
With devil’s hate and scorn;
‘Twas mine to press upon His soul
That load of suffering care;
For I have crucified my Lord,
‘Twas my sins nailed Him there.
‘Twas I that brought Gethsemane
To God’s beloved Son,
And led Him up to Calvary,
For ills that I have done;
The darkening heaven, the rending earth,
Thrilled with their vast despair;
For I have crucified my Lord,
‘Twas my sins nailed Him there.
‘Twas His to pardon, His to bless
The one that wronged Him so;
I had not known the peace of God
Had He not suffered woe.
But evermore His blessed Cross
Brings God and heaven to me —
For I am crucified with Christ,
And Christ now lives in me.
Heyman Wreford.