When I survey the wondrous cross

1When 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.

2See, 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!

3Since I, who was undone and lost, Have pardon through his name and word; Forbid it, then, that I should boast, Save in the cross of Christ, my Lord.

4Were the whole realm of nature mine, That were a tribute far too small; Love so amazing, so divine, Demands my life, my soul, my all.