A Man of Sorrows
To whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?
And to how many will He remain concealed?
He grew up before Him, a tender shoot…
Without stately form, from parched ground a root.
No majesty that we should look upon,
Nor appearance that the worldly would fawn.
Who yet meets our message with belief
Of a man of sorrows, aquatinted with grief?
He was despised – forsaken of men,
Yet He Himself was to bear our sin.
Though like one from whom men hide their face,
Interceding for transgressors, He took our place.
We esteemed Him not, yet our grief He bore…
Knowing full well what was in store.
We viewed Him as stricken, smitten of God, afflicted!
Managing to ignore all prophecy depicted.
Yet He carried our sorrow, pierced for our transgression,
Taken away by our own judgment and oppression.
Crushed for iniquity, ours! Chastened for our well being…
How many yet deny the words they’re seeing?
For by His scourging we are healed,
Yet the truth lies unbelieved – unrevealed.
All of us, like sheep, having gone astray.
Each of us turning to our own way.
But the iniquity of us all
Upon a man of sorrows did fall.
A lamb led to slaughter, having done no violence…
He opened not His mouth, but only offered silence.
Cut off out of the land of the living,
No deceit within himself to be giving;
Wicked men yet to His grave were assigned,
In the tomb of a rich man, still much maligned.
The Lord, pleased to crush Him – put Him to grief,
Knowing it would not be without relief…
If He would render Himself a guilt offering,
His days would be prolonged – He would see His offspring.
The good pleasure of God prospering in His hand,
A result of anguish but He could understand.
He will see it, and then He will be satisfied
In knowledge of the Righteous One at His side.
But one servant to justify the many,
The whole of our iniquity bore within He.
Allotted by God a portion of the great,
Dividing spoil with the strong sharing His plate.
Because He poured out Himself unto death,
Numbered with the transgressors in His dying breath,
Bearing sins of the many, the arm of the Lord revealed.
To how many yet does He remain concealed?
Who yet would deny this prophecy
Written some six hundred eighty years B.C.?