77. When I survey the wondrous cross
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 cross 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 an offering far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all!