To sing well, it is like a prayer said twice. So says Saint Augustine. But read this first as prose.
When I survey the wondrous cross on which the King 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 a present far too small; love so amazing, so divine,
demands my soul, my life, my all.
Isaac Watts, published 1707 AD
From Galatians 6:14 “But God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me and I unto the world.
