January 12

O Father,
When we survey the wondrous cross on which our Prince of glory died, our richest gain we count but loss, and pour contempt on all our pride. Forbid it, Lord, that we should boast, save in the death of Christ our God. All the vain things that charm us most, we sacrifice them to Christ's blood. We 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? Were the whole realm of nature ours, that were a present far too small. Love so amazing, so divine, it demands our soul, our life, our all. We give it to You this morning our dear Lord. Take it and make it wholly Thine. Consecrate us in Your service today, we ask in Your faithful and holy name, Amen.