o n • a • h i l l • f a r • a w a y

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.

 

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 that old rugged cross, stained with blood so divine,

a wondrous beauty I see,

for ’twas on that old cross Jesus suffered and died,

to pardon and sanctify me.

 

To that 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 away,

where his glory forever I’ll share.

 

George Bennard (1873 – 1958)

 

Done