A surveyor set up his instruments on the edge of the field. Hours later a young girl noticed he was still there. Why would someone spend so much time looking at the land? Then he came back the next day for more looking! This seemed strange to me as a child. But I didn’t understand the meticulous work of a surveyor or the precise measurement needed, often for the purpose of assessing value.

To survey is not to issue a casual, passing glance. In the hymn “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross” by Isaac Watts (1674–1748), we are invited, even compelled, to set up our surveyor instruments and stay awhile. Ascertain the measurement—the height and depth, width and length (Ephesians 3:18–19). Examine the cross so as not to miss anything. Appraise its value and significance.

When I survey the wondrous cross
on which the Prince of Glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
and pour contempt on all my pride.

The writer’s literary skills are displayed throughout this hymn. Notice the contrasting word duos in the first stanza: wondrous/cross, Prince of Glory/died, gain/loss, and contempt/pride. In the paradox of the wondrous cross, Watts pairs beauty with brutality. A horrific instrument of death becomes one of salvation. The Prince of Glory, the divine Son of God, at the highest pinnacle of power chooses the lowest depths of helplessness through death on a cross (Philippians 2:6–11). The countercultural confession of gain as loss is rooted in Philippians 3:7–8, “I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.” Finally, contempt is an action of lowering others, while pride is elevating self. Pouring contempt on our pride implies disgust to the extent that we want to annihilate or drown it, not a mere sprinkling to temporarily dampen its spirits.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
save in the death of Christ, my God:
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to His blood.

The original title of this hymn, specifically written for communion, was “Crucifixion to the World by the Cross of Christ,” and its inspiration was Galatians 6:14, which closely aligns with this stanza. Watts’ use of personal pronouns as shown in the first two stanzas was groundbreaking and somewhat controversial in 18th-century England. His intent was to encourage contemplation on the rich Christ-centered theology of Scripture and elicit devotional response.

The world pressures us to boast in wealth, power, and accomplishments, but here Watts helps us confess their vain charm is lost in the light of the cross.

See, from His head, His hands, His feet,
sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet?
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

We gaze upon our Suffering Servant, the man of sorrows, acquainted with grief (Isaiah 53). The people hurl vehement accusations. They betray and mock and insult. Sorrow speaks through silence. They spit and scourge and torture. Love responds, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” We see the head that bears the thorny crown, the outstretched hands, the pierced feet. The Sorrowing One who willingly took the Gethsemane cup bears in anguish the weight of my sin and the sin of the world. The innocent is crucified for the guilty. My sin hangs before me on the tree of death and life.

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
that were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
demands my soul, my life, my all.

This “demands” is not a harsh finger-wagging ultimatum. The writer paints a picture that makes sorrow and love circular. His sorrow and love mingled on the cross evoke my sorrow and love in return. I survey the wondrous cross; the thorny crown pricks the depths of my innermost being. Love has freed me from the weight of sin. Love draws my heart. My sorrow and love flow back to the cross in repentance, devotion, and surrender.

* * * * * * * * * * *

This hymn is broadly considered the finest English hymn because of its poetic quality and theological depth. Composing his first hymn at age 18, Watts’ prolific writing totaled more than 600 hymns. Though small in stature at only five feet, with a notably unimpressive appearance and frail health since childhood, his perceived inferiority and weaknesses in the eyes of the world did not hinder God’s work through him. By age 6 Isaac exhibited poetic talent, and he became an insatiable reader. God gifted Isaac with a brilliant intellect, enabling him to master four languages besides English by his early teens: Latin, Greek, Hebrew, French. Yet he could not study at the established, prestigious universities of Oxford and Cambridge since only members of the Church of England could enroll. Isaac’s father was a Dissenter, imprisoned twice for his nonconformist religious views. Isaac studied at a dissenting academy established to train ministers for nonconformist churches and then pastored an independent congregation. 

Watts’ hymn writing was pivotal in church music in England, and he has become known worldwide as the “Father of English Hymnody.” He published his first English hymnal in 1707. Germany and Scandinavia had rich hymnody coming out of the Lutheran Reformation in the 1500s. But the Church of England and broader Reformed or Calvinist tradition in Europe were restricted to chanting the Psalter. Young Isaac believed this left the people impoverished of the New Testament, and he also criticized shoddy hymns sung in the dissenting churches. When his father challenged him to write something better, Isaac immediately accepted and soon presented his first hymn. He continued to write poetic lyrics to express the theology of Scripture, integrating the Old and New Testaments, communicating redemptive history, and inviting personal piety.

Christopherson, a member of New Luther Valley Lutheran, McVille, N.D., is the director of AFLC Parish Education.

Article originally published in the April 2026 issue of The Lutheran Ambassador. Used by permission.