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.
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 wondrous cross|
|Title:||When I Survey the Wondrous Cross|
|Author:||Isaac Watts (1707)|
|Topic:||Jesus Christ: Passion and Cross|
|Composer:||S. Webbe (1830)|
|Source:||E. Miller (later version of a tune by)|