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

Forbid it Lord that I should boast

Save in the death of Christ my God
All the vain things that charm me most
I sacrificed them to His blood


See from Hid head His hands His feet
Sorrow and love flow mingled down

Did ere such love and sorrow meet
Or thorns compose so rich a crown


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