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.