Hymn 272 - "When I behold the wondrous Cross"

When I behold the wondrous cross

On which the Lord of glory died,

My richest gain I count but loss,

And pour contempt on all my pride.

Far be the thought that I should boast,

Save in the cross of Christ, my Lord;

All the vain things that charm me most,

I'd sacrifice them at His word.

There from His head, His hands, His feet,

Sorrow and love flowed 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 an off'ring far too small;

Love so amazing, so divine,

Demands my soul, my life, my all!