When I survey the wondrous cross

1. 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.

2. Forbid It Lord, that I should boast,
    Save in the death of Christ, My God;
    All the vain things that charm me most,
    I'd sacrifice them to His blood.

3. See from His head, His hands, His feet,
    Sorrow and love flowed mingled down;
    Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
    Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

4. His dying crimson, from His head
    Spreads o'er His body on the tree;

    To all the world then am I dead,
    And all the world is dead to me.

5 Were the whole realm of nature mine,
  That were an offering far too small;
  Love so, amazing so divine,
  Demands my soul, my life, my all,