When I survey the wondrous cross
|
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 cross 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 an offering far too small; love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all. |
In mentem mihi cum venit Crucis Deo letiferae, damnosum omne lucrum fit pudetque me superbiae. Ne causa gloriandi sit nisi in pendente Domino. Inane quicquid placuit eius Cruori consecro. Amorem luctu confluum stillant caput, pedes, manus Insigne quod confluvium! Quod fronte spineum decus! Totus-ne mundus est mihi? Non sufficit, si offero. Amori tam mirabili me ipsum dare debeo. |