Stricken Smitten and Afflicted

Stricken, smitten, and afflicted
See Him dying on the tree
'Tis the Christ by man rejected
Yes, my soul, 'tis He, 'tis He
'Tis the long-expected Prophet
David's son, yet David's Lord
Proofs I see sufficient of it
'Tis the true and faithful Word

Tell me, ye who hear Him groaning
Was there ever grief like His?
Friends through fear His cause disowning
Foes insulting His distress
Many hands were raised to wound Him
None would interpose to save
But the deepest stroke that pierced Him
Was the stroke that Justice gave

Ye who think of sin but lightly
Nor suppose the evil great
Here may view its nature rightly
Here its guilt may estimate
Mark the sacrifice appointed
See who bears the awful load
'Tis the Word, the Lord's Anointed
Son of Man and Son of God

Here we have a firm foundation
Here the refuge of the lost
Christ, the Rock of our salvation
His the name of which we boast
Lamb of God, for sinners wounded
Sacrifice to cancel guilt
None shall ever be confounded
Who on Him their hope have built