I boast not of works or tell of good deedsFor naught have i done to merit his graceAll glory and praise shall rest upon himSo willing to die in my placeI will glory in the crossIn the crossLest his suffering all be in vainI will weep no more for the cross that he boreI will glory in the crossMy trophies and crowns, my robe stained with sinTwas all that i had to lay at his feetUnworthy to eat from the table of lifeTill love made provision for me
