| |
| Ten Thousand Angels |
| |
| They bound the hands of Jesus |
| In the garden where He prayed; |
| They led Him through the streets in shame. |
| They spat upon the Saviour |
| So pure and free from sin; |
| They said, “Crucify him”, He’s to blame. |
| |
| He could have called ten thousand angels |
| To destroy the world and set Him free. |
| He could have called ten thousand angles |
| But he died alone, for you and me. |
| |
| Upon His precious head |
| They placed a crown of thorns |
| They laughed and said, “Behold the King” |
| They struck Him and they cursed Him |
| And mocked his Holy name, |
| All alone He suffered everything. |
| |
| When they nailed Him to the Cross |
| His mother stood nearby; |
| He said, “Woman behold thy son!” |
| He cried, “I thrist for water”, |
| But they gave Him none to drink. |
| Then the sinful work of man was done. |
| |
| To the howling mob He yielded; |
| He did not for mercy cry. |
| The cross of shame He took alone. |
| And when He cried, “It’s finshed”, |
| He gave himself to die; |
| Salvation’s wondrous plan was done. |
| |
| |