Upon the cross He hangs now, the most abject and despised of all men, the butt for vile jests, a common mark for all to hurl their jibes at. There He hangs, in agony no human lips can tell, no mind conceive, an impostor, a vile hypocrite, a failure. Come, sinner, gaze upon your work for you have nailed Him there! COMMENT: On this, the Feast of the Triumph …