Who is this coming from Edom, from Bozrah, with His garments stained crimson? Who is this, robed in splendor, striding forward in the greatness of His strength? Isaiah 63:1
It is I, proclaiming victory, mighty to save.
No common vision this I see
In more than human majesty,
Who is this mighty Hero, who,
With glorious terror on His brow?
His deep dyed crimson robes outvie
The blushes of the morning sky;
Lo! how triumphant He appears
And victory in His visage wears!
How strong, how stately does He go!
Pompous and solemn is His pace,
And full of majesty His face,
Who is this mighty hero, who?
’Tis I, who to My promise stand:
I, who sin, death, hell, and the grave
Have foiled with this all conquering hand:
’Tis I, the Lord, mighty to save.
Why wear’st Thou then this crimson dye;
Say Thou, all conquering hero, why?
Why do Thy garments look all red
Like them that in the wine vat tread?
“The wine press I alone have trod,
That ponderous mass I plied alone:
And with me to assist was none:
A task worthy the Son of God!
“Angels stood trembling at the sight,
Enraged I put forth all My might,
And down the engine pressed; the force
Put frighted nature out of course.
“The blood gushed out, and checkered o’er
My garments with its deepest gore.
With glorious stains bedecked I stood,
And writ My victory in blood.
“The day, the signal day is come
Vengeance on all My foes to take;
The day, when death shall have its doom,
And the dark Kingdom’s powers shall shake.
“I looked, who to assist stood by:
Trembled Heav’n’s hosts, nor ventured nigh:
E’en to My Father did I look
In pain: My Father Me forsook.
“A while amazed I was to see
None to uphold or comfort Me:
Then I arose in might arrayed,
And called My fury to My aid.
My single arm the battle won,
And strait th’ acclaiming Hosts above
Hymned, in new songs of joy and love,
Jehovah and His conquering Son.