Sabbath Rest

My late-afternoon view when I awakened from my Sunday nap.

Who Is This, So Weak and Helpless

Who is this, so weak and helpless,
child of lowly Hebrew maid,
rudely in a stable sheltered,
coldly in a manger laid?
'Tis the Lord of all creation,
who this wondrous path has trod,
He is God from everlasting,
and to everlasting God.

Who is this, a Man of Sorrows,
walking sadly life's hard way,
homeless, weary, sighing, weeping
over sin and Satan's sway?
'Tis our God, our glorious Savior,
who above the starry sky
is for us a place preparing,
where no tear can dim the eye.

Who is this?  Behold him shedding
drops of blood upon the ground,
Who is this, despised, rejected,
mocked, insulted, beaten, bound?
'Tis our God, who gifts and graces
on His church is pouring down;
who shall smite in holy vengeance
all His foes beneath His throne.

Who is this that hangs there dying
while the rude world scoffs and scorns,
numbered with the malefactors,
torn with nails, and crowned with thorns?
'Tis our God who lives forever
'mid the shining ones on high,
in the glorious golden city,
reigning everlastingly.

-a hymn by William Walsham How

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