On which the Lord of glory died,
Our richest gain we count but loss,
And pour contempt on all our pride.
On which the Lord of glory died,
Our richest gain we count but loss,
And pour contempt on all our pride.
Save in the death of Christ, our Lord;
All the vain things that charm us most,
We’d sacrifice them to His blood.
Save in the death of Christ, our Lord;
All the vain things that charm us most,
We’d sacrifice them to His blood.
Sorrow and love flowed mingled down;
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
Sorrow and love flowed mingled down;
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
Spreads o’er His body on the tree;
To all the world then am I dead,
And all the world is dead to me.
Spreads o’er His body on the tree;
To all the world then am I dead,
And all the world is dead to me.
That were an offering far too small;
Love that transcends our highest pow’rs,
Demands our heart, our life, our all.
That were an offering far too small;
Love that transcends our highest pow’rs,
Demands our heart, our life, our all.
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