1 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.

Chorus:
I'm redeemed by the Saviour's cleansing blood,
It has wash'd and made me whiter than the snow:
Yes, I'm washed in the Saviour's cleansing blood,
As I journey on to victory, I will go.

2 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 Word. [Chorus]

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? [Chorus]

4 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. [Chorus]