I am the man. The one Pilate should have questioned; Guilty before the law, Guilty before every man, Condemned by my own faithless heart. I am the refugee, That hath seen affliction. Poor, weak, troubled, wandering, Looking for rest. I have received the truth of judgment, By the rod of his wrath. Nations are shattered by it, My vain, prideful dreams lie broken The seed bed of repentance, The gateway to the fatness of His house.