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.

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’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.

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.

by Isaac Watts, 1707

We sang this hymn at church yesterday as part of the Good Friday worship service.  The lyrics reminded me of the work that Christ has done on the cross for you and me. That, there is nothing I can boast of as my own. That, there is nothing I can do on my own to save myself from my sins.  Only by the death of Christ on the cross can we be saved from sin.  Thank God for His grace.

May you all have a blessed Easter.