On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.
Save in the death of Christ my God!
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to His blood.
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
Spreads o’er His body on the tree;
Then I am dead to all the globe,
And all the globe is dead to me.
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.
By bitter grief and anguish sore,
Be praise from all the ransomed race
Forever and forevermore.