On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross,
the emblem of suffering and shame;
and I love that old cross where the dearest
and the best for a world of lost sinners was slain.
So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,
till my trophies, at last, I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
and exchange it someday for a crown.
O that old rugged cross, so despised
by the world, has a wondrous attraction for me;
for the dear Lamb of God left his glory above
to bear it to dark Calvary.
In the old rugged cross, stained with blood
so divine, a wondrous beauty I see;
for it was on that old cross Jesus suffered
and died To pardon and sanctify me.
To the old rugged cross, I will ever be true,
its shame and reproach gladly bear;
then he’ll call me someday to my home
far away, where his glory forever I’ll share.
