When I Survey The Wondrous Cross

by Issac Watts

(Galatians 6:14)

When I survey the wondrous Cross

Where the young Prince of Glory died,

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?

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.

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.