Who is this, so weak and helpless,
Child of lowly Hebrew maid,
Rudely in a stable sheltered,
Coldly in a manger laid?
‘Tis the Lord of all creation,
Who this wondrous path has trod;
He is Lord from everlasting,
And to everlasting God.

Who is this, a Man of Sorrows,
Walking sadly life’s hard way,
Homeless, weary, sighing, weeping
Over sin and Satan’s sway?
‘Tis our God, our glorious Savior,
Who above the starry sky
Is for us a place preparing,
Where no tear can dim the eye.

Who is this? Behold him shedding
Drops of blood upon the ground!
Who is this, despised, rejected,
Mocked, insulted, beaten, bound?
‘Tis our God, Who gifts and graces
On His church is pouring down;
Who shall smite in holy vengeance
All His foes beneath His throne.

Who is this that hangs there dying
While the rude world scoffs and scorns,
Numbered with the malefactors,
Torn with nails, and crowned with thorns?
‘Tis our God Who lives forever
Mid the shining ones on high,
In the glorious golden city,
Reigning everlastingly.

For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek. For in it the righteousness of God is revealed from faith for faith, as it is written, “The righteous shall live by faith.” For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who by their unrighteousness suppress the truth. (Rom. 1:16-18)

A Bible study lesson taught at Trinity Reformed Baptist Church in Jackson, GA.

A poem about the One afflicted, when He was faint
and pours out His complaint before the Lord (Psalm 102:1-11)

Hear me, LORD. Hear me, LORD.
Let me cry come to you!
Do not hide your face from me,
Is my distress not in view?

Incline your ear, Omniscient One,
hear my cry I pray.
Answer me, Ever Present, All Potent One,
speedily in that day!

My days are rubble, they pass awake like smoke,
thin vanish before my eyes.
My bones the fuel, my strength to stand,
consumed in the fire.

My heart like withered grass struck down,
I forget to eat my bread.
Loud groaning has become my food,
my bones cling to flesh.

A bird of desolation I have become,
in lonely wilderness.
In wasted places overcome by grief, alone, despised,
in one word – motionless.

Trouble drives sleep from my eyes,
I am kept awake at night.
This nurse of nature escapes my life,
my companion has taken flight.

My enemies, they look at me,
and taunt me all the day.
My name for those who ridicule,
a curse is what they say.

The bare ground a table for my food,
ashes do I eat.
To the brim and overflow,
tears mingled are my drink.

My greatest burden, my great distress,
your indignation and your wrath.
You lift me up to throw me down,
crushing me to death.

My day is shortened, my night is long,
an evening shadow is my life.
Full morning flourish, cut down at noon,
withered from the strife.