Nor form, nor comeliness is there.
2 Brought forth to judgment, now he stands
Arraigned, condemned, at Pilate’s bar;
Here, spurned by fierce pretorian bands;
There, mocked by Herod’s men of war.
3 He bears their buffeting and scorn—
Mock-homage of the lip, the knee—
The purple robe, the crown of thorn—
The scourge, the nail, the accursed tree.
4 No guile within his mouth is found;