Isaac Watts - When I Survey The Wondrous Cross

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When I survey the wondrous cross
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On which the Prince of glory died,
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My richest gain I count but loss,
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And pour contempt on all my pride.

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Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
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Save in the death of Christ my God:
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All the vain things that charm me most,
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I sacrifice them to his blood.

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See, from his head, his hands, his feet,
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Sorrow and love flow mingled down:
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Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
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Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

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Were the whole realm of nature mine,
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That were a present far too small;
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Love so amazing, so divine,
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Demands my soul, my life, my all.

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(AMEN)