1. When I survey the wondrous

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 sacrifice them to His blood

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

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