The crowd which followed tried to do everything they could to hurt Him.

So Jesus tottered along, bowed under the heavy weight of the wood.

His gown covered with street mud, His head pierced by the thorns so that drops of blood trickled down His unkempt hair and over His agonised face.

Never before was so wretched a figure dragged to the place of execution, never before was a poor malefactor so terribly ill-treated on his way to death.

And never before had such dignity and gentleness been seen in the countenance of a condemned man as in that of this man.