On a hill far away
stood an old rugged cross.
The emblem of suffering and shame.
And on that rugged cross
hung the dearest and best
for a world of lost sinners
And the moment I saw from my Lord
His pure blood dripping down from His brow.
I will weep at the foot of that cross
for in dying, my life is saved now.
To the Lord up above
who is my substitute,
my shame and reproach gladly bared.
By His blood He will claim
all my sins washed away
so His Glory forever I'll share.
So then perished my sins on that cross
where my trophies at last I laid down,
as I picked up that old rugged cross
to exchange it some day for my crown.