Hymn

“When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Lord 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 cross 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 flowed 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!”

J. Watts.
“Revive Thy work, O Lord!” exalt Thy precious Name; And by the Holy Ghost, our love, for Thee and Thine inflame.”
Albert Midlane.