When I Survey the Wondrous Cross
Few believers truly love the cross
of Christ. For though it offers great
deliverance, it also demands great
sacrifice. Isaac Watts was deeply
disappointed with the hymns of his
day, which failed to inspire parishes
to genuine worship and holy living.
So this dissatisfaction led him to
compose more than 600 hymns,
designed to call his congregation
to a deeper knowledge and worship
of God. And this hymn was written in
1707 for use in communion service.
Lord, we dedicate ourselves to You:
(I want to) be found in (Christ), not
having a righteousness of my own
that comes from the law, but that
which is through faith in Christ…
I want to know Christ and the power
of His resurrection & the fellowship
of sharing in His suffering, becoming
like Him in His death, and somehow
to attain to the resurrection from
the dead (Philippians 3:9-11).
Lord Jesus, from the hymn, we
realise the cross is not only a holy
cross, but also a “wondrous” cross.
For this undignified & cruel cross,
was placed between another two
which bore the bodies of criminals.
If anyone deserved to be exalted
it’s this Prince of Glory who chose
to die in such humility. And so we
pour contempt on all our pride.
The blood flowing from Your head,
hands and feet becomes mingled
with sorrow for the pain & suffering.
And also of love because You bore
this for each and everyone of us.
So, we praise Your holy name, Amen.
Father God, the wonder and the
seriousness of Christ’s sacrificial
death cause us to contemplate.
What shall we offer to You God
in grateful appreciation for Your
gracious gift? For all that we are
and have is but a small offering
in return for such a great love!!
Help me Lord to truly choose You;
and open me to whatever You want
to do in my life to fit Your purpose.
For Love so amazing, so divine,
demands my soul, my life, my all.
In Jesus’ precious name, Amen.
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…
See fr 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.