The curse, the due reward,
Th’ iniquity of all now laid on Him!
That high-filled Cup of Woes,
His Prescient Mind foreknows,
From first approach of Judas’ torch-led host;
That false disciple’s kiss,
And all that followed this,
Till on the Cross He yielded up the ghost.
Each furrowed, bleeding gash,
From cruel scourge’s lash,