I boast not of works or tell of good deeds For naught have i done to merit his grace All glory and praise shall rest upon him So willing to die in my place I will glory in the cross In the cross Lest his suffering all be in vain I will weep no more for the cross that he bore I will glory in the cross My trophies and crowns, my robe stained with sin Twas all that i had to lay at his feet Unworthy to eat from the table of life Till love made provision for me