101 WHEN I SURVEY THE CROSS (C)

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!