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WHEN I SURVEY THE WONDROUS CROSS - by Isaac Watts, 1707 
                                      Public Domain


              When I survey the wondrous cross
              On which the Prince of Glory died,
              My richest gain I count but loss,
              And pour contempt on all my pride.

              Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
              Save in the death of Christ, my God;
              All the vain things that charm me most,
              I sacrifice them to His blood.

              See, from His head, His hands, His feet,
              Sorrow and love flow mingled down;
              Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
              Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

              His dying crimson, like a robe,
              Spreads o'er His body on the tree;
              Then I am dead to all the globe,
              And all the globe is dead to me.

              Were the whole realm of nature mine,
              That were a present far too small;
              Love so amazing, so divine,
              Demands my soul, my life, my all.

                                 Amen.
             


NOTES: Please don't let the unfamiliar phrasing cause you to miss the
power of this hymn. It is well worth spending the time to get the
meaning clearly.  This poem has been called the "greatest hymn ever
written in the English language." Isaac Watts revolutionized
public worship in his time, and this is his crowning achievement.


Rev. Dec. 12, 2005 to includee verse 4