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2 years ago"
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 cross 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?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.- Isaac Watts, 1707 Notes
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