The Suffering Servant (Isaiah 53)

Who was believing our report?
Revealing the Lord's arm
The Lord would see Him growing up
This plant of tender charm

He was a root from driest ground
No form or comeliness to be
Our eyes would not desire Him
No beauty could we see.

Rejected and despised by men
The wormwood and the gall
From Him we would our faces hide
His face more marred than all.

Surely, He has born our griefs
Carried our sorrowing load
And we would see Him stricken there
So smitten on that road.

Wounded and bruised because of us
This love to bring us close
And healing us with vicious stripes
Our blindness to depose.

We all like sheep have gone astray
It is the path we own
To follow where we should not go
Our sins on Him alone.

And while oppressed he did not speak
Lamb to the slaughter-house
A sheep for shearing, silently
He opened not His mouth.

He was stricken, and His grave
Was by the wicked made
But with the richest at His death
No violence He displayed.

The Lord was pleased to buffet Him
But He would soon prolong
His days, the pleasure of the Lord
His spoil shared with the strong.

Because His soul was poured to death
For many, bore their sin
For us poor souls He opened up
Heaven's doors to lead us in.

What He has done our Lord of Life
It fills our hearts with awe
We praise and honour Who He is
And worship evermore.

Book by Paul Purday

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