A Purple Robe
A purple robe, a crown of thorn,
A reed in His right hand;
Before the soldiersí spite and scorn
I see my Savior stand.
He bears between the Roman guard
The weight of all our woe;
A stumbling figure, bowed and scarred,
I see my Savior go.
He hangs, by whom the world was made,
Beneath the darkened sky;
The everlasting ransom paid,
I see my Savior die.
He shares on high His Fatherís throne,
Who once in mercy came;
For all His love to sinners shown
I sing my Saviorís Name.
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