Who is this man who looks like me,
No comeliness or form,
Whose flesh is dry as ground can be
But spirit’s of the Lord?

When staring at his weathered face,
No beauty to behold;
When looking at his haggard shape,
No pleasure to extol.

Yet when he speaks the demons flee,
Obeying every word;
And when he calls the dead from sleep,
They waken, life restored.

He is the Word: a shining light,
Revealing truth to men;
But they prefer the darkest night
And wickedness of sin.

They call him the Messiah King,
The Saviour and the Christ,
Who came to save men from all sin;
But Jesus, they despised.

In fact they hated him so much
They hung him on the cross;
A body beaten, slashed, and crushed,
His gentle soul was lost.

They laid him in an empty tomb
And rolled a stone in place,
And stood up men to guard the room
To safeguard his remains.

But on the first day of the week,
Came women to the tomb:
Preparing to anoint his skin
With spices and perfumes.

But what they saw gave them affright:
The stone was rolled away;
For with a boom and blinding light,
He overcame the grave.

And then appeared to men and crowds,
To prove he was alive,
Before ascending in the clouds
To Heaven’s throne arrived.

Now sitting at his Father’s hand,
He intercedes for us;
The Holy Spirit he commands,
To teach us words to trust.

And those of us who have believed
In all the works he did,
We serve until the trumpet sounds,
When summoned home to him.

Then once the nations have been tried
By wrath from God above,
Upon a white horse he shall ride
To rescue those he loves.

Who is this man who looks like me,
Who suffered wrongfully?

He’s LORD of lords and KING of kings:
CREATOR of all things.