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 Lord   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, my life, my all   Love so amazing, so divine   Demands my soul, my life, my all