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 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.

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1 La cruz excelsa al contemplar
do mi Señor por mí murió,
nada se pueda ambicionar
a las riquezas de su amor.

2 No me permitas, Dios, gloriar
sino en la cruz de mi Señor;
lo que más pueda ambicionar
lo sacrifico por su amor.

3 Veo en su rostro, manos, pies,
las marcas vivas del dolor;
es imposible comprender
tal sufrimiento y tanto amor.

4 El mundo entero no será
dádiva digna de ofrecer;
amor tan grande, sin igual,
en cambio exige todo el ser.