The crown of thorns was put upon His head, not gently but roughly. Many thorns — perhaps a dozen or more, up to one-and-a-half inches long were jabbed into His scalp, producing such serious wounds that trickles of blood spurted out and ran into His hair and beard, matting both in dark red.
The spikes were driven into the wrists of His hands, and His blood coursed down His arms and sides. Spikes were also driven through His feet, and more blood ran down the sides of the cross on behalf of the sins of the whole world. Later a spear was thrust into His side, and His blood spilled out (John 19:34) and ran down the cross onto the ground beneath.
His bones were out of joint (Psalm 22:14). His face was dreadful to look at, His features unrecognizable (see Isaiah 53). Since He was already dead when the soldiers arrived to break His legs — which was their custom in order to hasten death — not a bone of Him was broken (Psalm 34:20; John 19:36).
Those who looked on Him saw only blood. It was a spectacle of blood. His hair and beard were soaked in His own blood. His back was lacerated from the thirty-nine stripes and was covered with His own blood. The cross was soaked with blood, as well as the ground around the base of the cross. It was blood, blood and blood everywhere.
(From the book “The Power of the Blood” by H.A. Maxwell Whyte, page 29-30)