I see the crowd in Pilate's hall

Verse 1

I see the crowd in Pilate’s hall, I mark their wrathful mien; Their shouts of crucify appall, With blasphemy between.

Verse 2

And of that shouting multitude I feel that I am one; And in that din of voices rude, I recognize my own.

Verse 3

I see the scourges tear His back, I see the piercing crown, And of that crowd who smite and mock, I feel that I am one.

Verse 4

Around yon cross, the throng I see, Mocking the sufferer’s groan, Yet still my voice it seems to be— As if I mocked alone.

Verse 5

’Twas I that shed the sacred blood, I nailed Him to the tree, I crucified the Christ of God, I joined the mockery.

Verse 6

Yet not the less that blood avails, To cleanse away my sin, And not the less that cross prevails To give me peace within.