When I Survey the Wondrous Cross

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. 

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

Where 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.