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I see the crowd in Pilate's hall 
I see the crowd in Pilate's hall, their furious cries I hear; their shouts of "Crucify!" appall, their curses fill mine ear. And of that shouting multitude I feel that I am one, and in that din of voices rude I recognize my own. 
I see the scourgers rend the flesh of God's belovèd Son; and as they smite I feel afresh that I of them am one. Around the Cross the throng I see that mock the Sufferer's groan, yet still my voice it seems to be, as if I mocked alone. 
'Twas I that shed that sacred Blood, I nailed him to the Tree, I crucified the Christ of God, I joined the mockery. Yet not the less that Blood avails to cleanse me from sin, and not the less that Cross prevails to give me peace within.