Chris Tomlin - The Noise We Make
When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of Glory died
My richest gain I count but loss
And pour contempt on all my pride
See from his head
his hands
his feet
Sorrow and love flow mingled down
Did ever such love and sorrow meet
Or thorns compose so rich a crown
O the wonderful cross
Bids me come and die and find that I may truly live
All who gather here by grace draw near and bless
Your name
Were the whole realm of nature mine
That were an offering far too small
Love so amazing
so divine
Demands my soul
my life
my all
*from the album |The Noise We Make|*