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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 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.
Oh, 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.
So I'll cherish the old rugged cross . . .
In the old rugged cross,
Stained with blood so divine,
Such a wonderful beauty I see;
For 'twas on that old cross
Jesus suffered and died,
To pardon and sanctify me.
So I'll cherish the old rugged cross . . .
To the old rugged cross
I will ever be true,
Its shame and reproach gladly bear;
Then He'll call me some day
To my home far way,
Where His glory forever I'll share.
So I'll cherish the old rugged cross . . .
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