The world that crucified my Lord
Makes overtures to me,
And offers pleasures and reward,
If I will faithless be.
But when in Jesus' death I died
The world to me was crucified.
The world, that crowned my Lord with thorns,
Would crown me with success
If I would walk as one who scorns
The crown of righteousness.
But I will never cast away
The crown I hope for “in that day.”
The world, that set my Lord at naught,
Would bid me make a name,
By selling what His life-blood bought,
For wealth, and ease, and fame.
But I of these desire no part;
My name is written on His heart.
The world, that pierced His hands and feet,
And smote my Savior's side,
Would tempt me with some vain conceit
To pander to my pride;
But all earth's vanities are dross
To those who glory in the Cross.