When I Survey the Wondrous Cross

        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.

As I ponder on the events of Holy Week in my mind's eye

I keep seeing the cross.

The cross, rugged, ugly, rough, heavy, torturous, mean –

And yet as Christians it is beautiful to us.

For it was on that old cross Jesus suffered and died –

                   for you 

                   for me 

                   for the whole world. 

Thank you Jesus for loving me that much.

Have you thanked Him? If not thank Him today

and remember what He gave for us.