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 Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast Save in the death of Christ my God All the vain things that charm me most I've sacrificed them to His blood The cross by faith I see Within its shadow I will hide His blood avails for me For me the Prince of Glory died Were the whole realm of nature mine That were a present far too small Love so amazing, so divine Demands my life, my soul, my all