Tortured to death by lash-inflicted wound;
His head bowed down, and sunk upon the ground;
Sad was his soul, oppress'd by heavy care.
Far, far from his home, his heart--deep, dark despair:
When lo! a vision broke before his sight,
A vision holy, beautiful, and bright;
The thorn-crown'd brow, with calm pale look resigned
Of one who suffered for mankind.
A voice, more sweet than earthly music's thrill,
Spake to the captive's heart--be patient, still.
Behold how meekly mercy's palm to win
He suffered for thy sake, who had no sin,
As on His Father's throne by suffering gained,
At length He sitteth, so thy soul, unchained
By patience and long faith, at last shall bound
Into Eternal Life, and be with glory crown'd.