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On a hill far away, stood an old rugged Cross, |
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The emblem of suff'ring and shame, |
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And I love that old Cross where the dearest and best, |
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For a world of lost sinners was slain. |
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So I'll cherish the old rugged Cross, |
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Till my trophies at last I lay down, |
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I will cling to the old rugged Cross, |
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And exchange it some day for a crown. |
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Oh, that old rugged Cross so despised by the world, |
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Has a wondrous attraction for me, |
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For the dear Lamb of God, left his Glory above, |
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To bear it to dark Calvary. |
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So I'll cherish the old rugged Cross, |
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Till my trophies at last I lay down, |
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I will cling to the old rugged Cross, |
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And exchange it some day for a crown. |
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In the old rugged Cross, stain'd with blood so divine, |
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A wondrous beauty I see, |
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For the dear Lamb of God, left his Glory above, |
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To pardon and sanctify me. |
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So I'll cherish the old rugged Cross, |
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Till my trophies at last I lay down, |
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I will cling to the old rugged Cross, |
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And exchange it some day for a crown. |
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To the old rugged Cross, I will ever be true, |
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Its shame and reproach gladly bear, |
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Then He'll call me some day to my home far away, |
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Where his glory forever I'll share. |
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So I'll cherish the old rugged Cross, |
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Till my trophies at last I lay down, |
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I will cling to the old rugged Cross, |
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And exchange it some day for a crown. |
