Cântăre 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.



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 an offering far too small

Love so amazing, so divine

Demand my soul, my life, my all.