| When I survey the wondrous cross
|
| On which the Prince of glory died
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| My richest gain I count but loss
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| And pour contempt on all my pride
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| When I survey, when I survey the wondrous cross
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| Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast
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| Save in the death of Christ my God
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| All the vain things that charm me most
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| I sacrifice them to His blood
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| When I survey, when I survey the wondrous cross
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| See from His head, His hands, His feet
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| Sorrow and love flow mingled down
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| Did e’er such love and sorrow meet
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| Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
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| When I survey, when I survey the wondrous cross
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| Were the whole realm of nature mine
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| That were a present far too small
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| Love so amazing, so divine
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| Demands my soul, my life, my all
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| When I survey, when I survey the wondrous cross
|
| When I survey, when I survey the wondrous cross
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| When I survey, when I survey the wondrous cross
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| When I survey, when I survey the wondrous cross
|
| When I survey, when I survey the wondrous cross
|
| When I survey, when I survey the wondrous cross |