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.