When I survey the wondrous crossOn which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.
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.
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?
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.
Words: Isaac Watts, 1707 Music: Lowell Mason, 1824
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.
Words: Isaac Watts, 1707 Music: Lowell Mason, 1824
