Scripture Verse

Then came Jesus forth, wearing the crown of thorns, and the purple robe. And Pilate saith unto them, Behold the Man! John 19:5


Scott Werdebaugh (1951–)

Words: Em­ma F. R. Camp­bell, The Hymn Je­sus of Na­za­reth Pass­eth By: Its His­to­ry and Oth­er Vers­es (New York: M. E. Mun­son, 1909), pag­es 40–43, alt.

Music: Be­hold the Man Scott Wer­de­baugh, March 17, 2018 (🔊 pdf nwc).

If you know where to get a good pho­to of Camp­bell (head & shoul­ders, at least 200×300 pix­els),


Judgment on the Gabbatha
James Tissot, circa 1890

Gabbatha—in the judg­ment hall
Of Ro­man might—a cow­ard judge—a throng
Of heart­less mad­men—mid them all,
In pa­tient suf­fer­ance of un­told wrong,
Serene, re­signed, with con­scious pow­er strong,
Behold the Man!

The Christ! By an­cient seers fore­told—
A man with whom no mor­tal can com­pare—
The Jews’ Messiah, sought of old,
He comes, the sins of mul­ti­tudes to bear,
And in His peo­ple’s woe and weak­ness share;
Behold the Man!

He came un­to His own, but lo!
His own re­ceived Him not; des­pised He stands
The vic­tim of their wrath; the woe
Of woes had pierced His soul; life in His hands
Rejected; scorned by heart­less, thank­less bands:
Behold the Man!

They brought Him forth, thorn-crowned, in pain;
Attired in robes of mock re­ga­li­ty;
The sign of heav’n­ly king­ship plain
On His pale brow en­stamped—the ma­jes­ty
Of God blend­ing with hu­man ago­ny:
Behold the Man!

They brought Him forth, scourged, bleed­ing, faint,
Bowed ’neath the bur­den of a whole world’s sin;
He bore the load with­out a self­ish plaint,
That dy­ing souls may life im­mor­tal win,
And through the gates of glo­ry en­ter in,
Behold the Man!

And yet all pow­er was His—a word
From those closed lips and an­gel hosts would come
Swift to defend their in­jured Lord,
And hurl His fierce op­pos­ers to their doom—
But si­lent, suf­fer­ing in sin­ners’ room,
Behold the Man!

Ah! Pilate, did a gleam of truth
Flash on your sec­ret soul in that dark day?
Else why the fal­ter­ing voice for­sooth,
The trou­bled brow, as you so weak­ly say,
I find no fault in Him, take Him away!
Behold the Man!

And ye who in your hearts of stone
Cry Cru­ci­fy Him! Cru­ci­fy Him! still—
Bleeding for your sins to atone,
Dying to save you from un­mea­sured ill
A sin­less sac­rifice on Calv’ry’s hill—
Behold the Man!

The day will dawn—it hast­ens now—
When He be­fore the world shall re­ap­pear;
Not ’neath the cross again to bow,
But as a con­quer­or, a crown to wear!
Then shall ye in dis­may and ab­ject fear
Behold the Man!

O Christ! all hu­man, all di­vine!
Pattern of pa­tience and hu­mi­li­ty!
Inspire my soul with grace like Thine,
That I may bear life’s tri­als pa­tient­ly,
And in that day of ter­ror tran­quil­ly
Behold the Man!