A Good Friday Survey

On this Good Friday, amidst the tumult of our sin-wrecked world, it would be good for us to soak up the lines of the poem penned by Isaac Watts. We know this poem as the hymn, “When I Survey.”


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 a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.

 Think on it. Be alarmed at the grotesque sight of your sin. Be astonished at the unfathomable price of your redemption. Be amazed by your Savior. His name is Jesus. The Messiah. The Lord. He’s incomparable! 

“He Himself bore our sins in His body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness; by His wounds you have been healed” (1 Peter 2:24).

by Keith McWhorter