A Purple Robe

A purple robe, a crown of thorns,
A reed in His right hand;
Before the soldiers' spite and scorn
I see my Saviour stand.
He bears between the Roman guards
The weight of all our woe;
A stumbling figure bowed and scarred
I see my Saviour go.
Fast to the cross's spreading span,
High in the sunlit air,
All 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.