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        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.


        So I'll cherish the old rugged cross,

        till my trophies at last I lay down;

        I will cling to the old rugged cross,

        and exchange it some day for a crown.


        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.