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 d**h 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
Demands my soul, demands my soul
Love demands my soul, my life, my all