"O day of man's dishonor,
When for Thy love supreme,
Man sought to mar Thy honor,
Thy glory turn to shame.

Thou soughtest for compassion,
Some heart Thy grief to know,
To watch Thine hour of passion,
For comforters in woe.

No eye was found to pity-
No heart to bear Thy woe;
But shame and scorn and spitting,
None cared Thy name to know.

The pride of careless greatness
Could wash its hands of Thee:-
Priests-that should plead for weakness-
Must Thine accusers be.

O man, how thou hast proved
What in thy heart is found!
By grace divine unmoved,-
By self in fetters bound.

Yet with all grief acquainted,
The Man of Sorrows view,
Unmoved, by ill untainted,

The path of grace pursue."

(From "Man of Sorrows," by J. N. D.