The Impact of the Cross

 

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?

 

 

His dying crimson, like a robe,

Spreads o’er His body on the tree;
Then I am dead to all the globe,

And all the globe is dead to me.

 

 

-When I Survey the Wondrous Cross

by Isaac Watts-