Who has believed our report
And to whom is shown the Arm of the Lord
He grew up before Him like a tender shoot
A root out of dry ground
There was nothing attractive
to draw us to Him
He was despised and we did not care
Like sheep, we have all gone astray
And each of us has turned to his own way
He was oppressed and afflicted but did not say a word
Like a Lamb that is led to the slaughter
Like a sheep that before its shearers is dumb
He bridled His own tongue
Surely He has borne our sin
And surely they were laid upon Him
He was pierced for our transgression of the Law
Crushed for our iniquities
The punishment that brought our peace was upon Him
And by His stripes we are healed
And by Your stripes I am healed
= = = = =
(Words adapted from Isaiah 53; Music by Marc Chopinsky)
