Surely He hath borne our griefs
And carried our sorrows too,
We esteemed Him stricken, smitten of God;
Afflicted for me and for you.
He was wounded for our transgressions
Bruised for our iniquities;
The chastisement of our peace was upon Him
His stripes heal our infirmities.

He was oppressed, and He was afflicted
Yet He opened not His mouth
He was brought as a Lamb to the slaughter
His manger He had left in the South.
And he made his grave with the wicked
Was with the rich in His death;
But He had done no violence
Nor uttered deceit with His breath.

Isaiah 53:4-9

index previous poem next poem