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?
Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were an offering far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.
THE TRUTH MEDIA
...building the body of Christ.
No comments:
Post a Comment
We hope you were blessed by what you read. Your kind comments motivate us, and please help to encourage someone by sharing.
From your friends at The Truth Media Blog. God bless you!