One day, in my wanderings, I heard a cry, a groan; methought ‘twas not a cry such as came from mortal lip, it had in it such unutterable depths of wondrous woe. I turned aside, expecting to see some great sight; and it was indeed a great sight that I saw.

Lo, there, upon a tree, all bleeding, hung a man. I marked the misery that made his flesh all quiver on his bones; I beheld the dark clouds come rolling down from heaven; I saw them clothe his brow with blackness, and I perceived that his heart was as full of the gloom and horror of grief as the sky was full of blackness. Then I seemed to look into his soul, and I saw there torrents of unutterable anguish, wells of torment of such an awful character that mortal lip dare not sip, lest it should be burned with scalding heat.

I said, ‘Who is this mighty sufferer? Why doth he suffer thus? Hath he been the greatest of all sinners, the basest of all blasphemers?’ But a voice came forth from the excellent glory, and it said, ‘This is my beloved Son; but he took the sinner’s sin upon himself, and he must bear its penalty.’ O God! I thought, I never saw sin till that hour, when I saw it tear Christ’s glories from his head, when I saw him covered with his own blood, and plunged into the uttermost depths of oceans of grief.

Charles Spurgeon