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 a present
far too small
Love so amazing
So divine
Demands my soul my life my all
Amen