When I Survey The
Wondrous Cross

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

When I survey the cross
When I survey the wondrous cross

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 a present far too small

Love so amazing so divine
Demands my soul my life my all