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When I survey the wondrous cross |
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On which the Prince of Glory died |
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My richest gain I count but loss |
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And pour contempt on all my pride |
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Forbid it Lord that I should boast |
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Save in the death of Christ my God |
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All the vain things that charm me most |
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I sacrificed them to His blood |
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See from His head His hands His feet |
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Sorrow and love flow mingled down |
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Did ere such love and sorrow meet |
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Or thorns compose so rich a crown |
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Were the whole realm of nature mine |
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that were a present far too small |
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Love so amazing so divine |
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Demands my soul my life my all |
