My sins were the scourges which lacerated
shoulders, and crowned with thorns His bleeding brow.
My sins cried, "Crucify Him! Crucify Him!"
and laid the cross on His gracious shoulders.
His being led forth is sorrow enough for one eternity,
but MY having been His murderer, is more, infinitely
more grief, than one poor fountain of tears can express.
There is no true mourning for sin until the eye has seen Christ.
The eye which looks to the pierced One
is the eye which weeps for Him.