When I survey the wonderous cross
On which the prince of glory died
My richest gain I count but lost
And pour contempt on all my pride
See, from His Head, His Hands, His Feet,
So much sorrow and love flow mingled down
Did e'er such Love and Sorrow meet
Or Thorns compose so rich, so rich a crown
Were this whole realm of nature mind
That were a present far too small
Love so amazing, so devine
Demands my soul my life my all
My life, my soul
My all