When I survey the wondrous cross: Difference between revisions

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==General information==
==General information==
'''Lyricist:''' [[Isaac Watts]].
This is an hymn by [[Isaac Watts]], his Hymn of Book 3, published 1709.
 
==Settings by composers==
==Settings by composers==
*[[When I survey the wondrous cross (Christopher W. Hart)| Christopher W. Hart]] S solo
*[[When I survey the wondrous cross (Christopher W. Hart)| Christopher W. Hart]] S solo
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My richest gain I count but loss,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.
And pour contempt on all my pride.
{{Vs|2}} Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
{{Vs|2}} Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
Save in the death of Christ my God:
Save in the death of Christ my God:
All the vain things that charm me most,
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to his blood.  
I sacrifice them to his blood.  
{{Vs|3}} See from his head, his hands, his feet,
{{Vs|3}} See from his head, his hands, his feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down;
Sorrow and love flow mingled down;
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Then I am dead to all the globe,
Then I am dead to all the globe,
And all the globe is dead to me.
And all the globe is dead to me.
{{Vs|5}} Were the whole realm of nature mine,
{{Vs|5}} Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
That were a present far too small;

Revision as of 02:34, 30 November 2015

General information

This is an hymn by Isaac Watts, his Hymn of Book 3, published 1709.

Settings by composers

Other settings possibly not included in the manual list above

Text and translations

English.png English text

1  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.

2  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.

3  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?

 

4  His dying crimson, like a robe,
Spreads o’er His body on the tree;
Then I am dead to all the globe,
And all the globe is dead to me.

5  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.

External links