1 When I survey the wond'rous cross
On which the Prince of glory dy'd,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And mourning weep o'er all my pride.
2 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.
3 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?
4 His dying crimson, like a robe,
Spreads o'er his body on the tree;
Then am I dead to all the globe,
And all the globe is dead to me.
5 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.
|First Line:||When I survey the wond'rous cross|
|Title:||Crucifixion to the world by the cross of Christ|
|Topic:||World: Crucified to it|