Some MSS. say, "Familiar with grief," others, "and knowing grief."
And we hid as it were our faces from him. We looked the other way when we saw Him. His sorrows begat no compassion within our hearts. This recalls the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:30-37) "A certain man," the Savior said, "went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead. And by chance there came down a certain priest that way: and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. And likewise a Levite, when he was at the same place, came and looked at him, and passed by on the other side," etc. Although this story was told to teach a different lesson, that of the good neighbor, we may draw from it a clear conception of the way the Jews received Jesus Christ. They passed Him by, and pretended not to see Him.
He was despised and rejected, rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief. He gave His back to the smiters, and His cheeks to them that plucked off the hair, He hid not His face from shame and spitting. (Handel, The Messiah. Text by Charles Jennens)
He was despised...and we esteemed him not. Many commentators, familiar with the Hebrew text, prefer to say,
"He was despised...and we held him of no account."
In the coming of the Messiah, the disappointment evinced by the Jews, culminating in their denial of Him, is made to appear all the more bitter when we read the beautiful words written in commemoration of that great event. These words are found in the Hymn Book of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
A poor wayfaring Man of grief
Hath often crossed me on my way,
Who sued so humbly for relief
That I could never answer, Nay.
I had not power to ask his name,
Whereto he went, or whence he came;
Yet there was something in his eye
That won my love; I knew not why.
Once, when my scanty meal was spread,
He entered, not a word he spake;
Just perishing for want of bread,
I gave him all; he blessed it, brake,
And ate, but gave me part again;
Mine was an angel's portion then,
For while I fed with eager haste,
The crust was manna to my taste.
I spied him where a fountain burst
Clear from the rock; his strength was gone;
The heedless water mocked his thirst;
He heard it, saw it, hurrying on.
I ran and raised the sufferer up:
Thrice from the stream he drained my cup,
Dipped and returned it running o'er;
I drank and never thirsted more.
Twas night; the floods were out; it blew
A winter hurricane aloof;
I heard his voice abroad and flew
To bid him welcome to my roof.
I warmed and clothed and cheered my guest
And laid him on my couch to rest,
Then made the earth my bed, and seemed
In Eden's garden while I dreamed.
Stript, wounded, beaten nigh to death,
I found him by the highway side;
I roused his pulse, brought back his breath,
Revived his spirit, and supplied
Wine, oil, refreshment, he was healed;
I had myself a wound concealed,
But from that hour forgot the smart,
And peace bound up my broken heart.
In prison I saw him next, condemned
To meet a traitor's doom at morn;
The tide of lying tongues I stemmed,
And honored him 'mid shame and scorn-
My friendship's utmost zeal to try,
He asked if I for him would die;
The flesh was weak; my blood ran chill;
But the free spirit cried, "I will!"
Then in a moment to my view
The stranger started from disguise;
The tokens in his hands I knew;
The Savior stood before mine eyes.
He spake, and my poor name he named,
"Of me thou hast not been ashamed;
These deeds shall thy memorial be,
Fear not, thou didst them unto me."