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 through 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 an off’ring far too small.
Love so amazing, so divine,
demands my soul, my life, my all.

1 La cruz excelsa al contemplar
do Cristo allí por mí murió,
nada se puede comparar
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.