The weight of the cross,
The Man o’ Calvary bore.
With patient enduring, cleans’d He my dross;
What love! My God came He for me to restore.
A crown of thorns, He humbly wore,
Batter’d, Bruised, Lashed and Eyesore;
Yet for love, and for me, He lovingly forbore.
O, This man of sorrows how I adore!
What cost for my soul? Fourscore?
Nay, for the Man of Galilee much more!
Like as the man who climbed up high the sycamore,
The old is gone, the new lives evermore.
What rejoicing! O Calvary! What rejoicing!
The shackles of my sin are no more,
The script of my life, not recounted as before.
A new life in Him now — to explore!
Truly, I am indebted to the Man of Calvary forevermore.
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