1 The priests, the elders, and the scribes,
From council had adjourned;
And Pilate’s proffered sacrifice,
The mob had promptly spurned.

2 And up Golgotha’s rising slope,
A boisterous, cruel, band,
With taunts, and jeers, and foul rebuke,
Leads forth the Son of Man.

3 Oh, what a scene for human eyes!
Our Savior, bowed in grief;
And tortured by the very ones
To whom He brings relief.

4 Close at His side, a swarthy man
Beneath His cross doth bow;
Oh Simon! Ne’er did mortal bend
To nobler task than thou.

5 And, on the brow of Calvary,
With scoffing, and with scorn,
They nailed our Savior to the cross,
With diadem of thorn.

6 ’Tis done, and Joseph now has laid
His body in the tomb;
And none except the guards keep watch,
Amid the somber gloom.

7 But what can bar our holy Lord,
Or cross His wondrous plan?
The stronghold ’bout His lonely tomb.
Shows unbelief of man.

8 When, to the tomb, the women came,
In grief, at break of day,
An angel, ’mid an earthquake vast,
Had rolled the stone away.

9 No power within this great domain,
Can stay our mighty king;
Oh grave, where is thy victory,
Oh death, where is thy sting!

10 Despite the grave, despite the bar,
In triumph He hath flown.
And sitteth now at God’s right hand,
Joint-ruler of His own.