The world that crucified my Lord, makes overtures to me,
And offers pleasures and reward, if I would faithless be.
But when in Jesus’ death I died, the world to me was crucified.
The world, that crowned my Lord with thorns, would crown me with success,
If I would walk as one who scorns, the crown of righteousness,
But I will never cast away, the crown I hope for “in that day.”
The world, that set my Lord at naught, would bid me make a name,
By selling what His life-blood bought, for wealth, and ease, and fame.
But I, of these desire no part; my name is written on His heart.
The world that pierced His hands and feet, and smote my Saviour’s side,
Would tempt me with some vain conceit, to pander to my pride:
But all the earth’s vanities are dross, to those who glory in the cross.

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