199. When We Survey the Wondrous Cross

L.M.
by Watts
1
When we survey the wondrous cross
 
On which the Lord of glory died,
 
Our richest gain we count but loss,
 
And pour contempt on all our pride.
2
Forbid it, Lord, that we should boast,
 
Save in the death of Christ, our God;
 
All the vain things that charm us most,
 
We’d sacrifice them to His blood.
3
There from His head, His hands, His feet,
 
Sorrow and love flowed mingled down;
 
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
 
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
4
Were the whole realm of nature ours,
 
That were an offering far too small;
 
Love that transcends our highest powers
 
Demands our soul, our life, our all.