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 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?

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.

Isaac Watts

Copied from my grandmother’s hymnal, Hymn Book of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South. Publishing House of the M. E. Church, South: Nashville, TN, 1901, Hymn #102.

Note: This hymn is in the public domain. Also, the hymns in this hymnal are not titled. So when I do not know the hymn, I generally use the first line as the title.

Photo taken in Milton, FL, 2021

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