Who Was This Man?

Who Was This Man?

Who was this Man who so embraced the dust that is our frame,

And who took root in broken earth and came to take our blame?

And though he now is lifted up, he was a source of scorn,

For many saw him marred and scared, beyond all human form.

Who has believed this sad lament and who has understood?

Though King of kings he was enthroned upon a cross of wood.

The world passed by with turned-away and proud, unseeing eyes,

Yet angels wept with strangled breath and shuddered at his cries.

He bore no form of majesty, that we should look at him,

He was a simple labourer whose life was bleak and grim.

He was rejected and despised, acquainted with all grief,

So, all who should have valued him were filled with unbelief. 

Our cup he drained, our shame he wore like linen on his skin,

And every lash that tore his flesh unstitched the cloth of sin.

For he was pierced to bear the curse, an offering for guilt,

And by his blood we have been healed with every drop he spilt.

For we like sheep have gone astray and followed our own ways,

So, on his back, he bore our load, his love for us displayed.

For in his palms our names are carved, engraved indelibly,

On him was laid our chastisement, the pain that bought our peace.

Just like a lamb to slaughter led, he opened not his mouth,

For at his trial he spoke no word, surrendering legal ground.

Convicted as a criminal, considered as a curse,

And yet their deeds, by him conceived, would grant us all rebirth.

They planned to make his grave among the poor and the despised,

To cast away his mortal frame where flames and worms reside.

And yet in death, they took him down, and laid him in a tomb,

A sepulchre made for the rich, encased in spiced perfume. 

For even though the wicked men who ruled upon the land,

Had gathered to decide his fate, it was your mighty hand,

That governed all pronouncements made because it was your will,

That through his bruising he would see your promises fulfilled.

Out of the anguish there would rise a gate to Paradise,

Because he has defeated death through his own sacrifice.

He saw the end beyond the grave, the joy beyond the nail,

And like the spring breaks winter’s grip, his victory prevails.

Now he who once was clothed in flesh, the one who once was crushed,

The man of sorrows, raised to life, now intercedes for us.

Based on Isaiah 49:16; 52:13–15 & 53; John 10:17-18; Acts 4:27-28.

© Johannes W H van der Bijl 2025.