At the Foot of the Cross

Here might I stay and sing,
  No story so divine;
Never was love, dear King,
  Never was grief like Thine.
    This is my Friend,
    In whose sweet praise
    I all my days
    Could gladly spend.

– Samuel Crossman

Yesterday the annual Good Friday BBC Concert Orchestra met in Winchester Cathedral.

click here to listen

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.

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
that were an offering far too small;
love so amazing, so divine,
demands my soul, my life, my all.

– Isaac Watts

 

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