One poem by Isaac Watts:

1. “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross”


When I Survey the Wondrous Cross


When I survey the wondrous cross

Where the young 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’re such love and sorrow meet,

Or thorns compose so rich a crown?


His dying crimson like a robe

Spreads o’er His body on the Tree,

Then am I dead to all the globe,

And all the globe is dead to me.


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




Start typing and press Enter to search