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
 By His Son, God now has spoken
 'Tis the true and faithful Word
 Tell me, ye who hear him groaning
 Was there ever grief like his?
 Friends thro' fear his cause disowning
 Foes insulting his distress
 Many hands were raised to wound him
 None would interpose to save
 Yet 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
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 Here we have a firm foundation
 Here the refuge of the lost
 Christ's 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