Nhạc sĩ: Isaac Watts
Lời đăng bởi: 86_15635588878_1671185229650
When I survey the wondrous crossOn which the Prince of Glory diedMy richest gain I count but lossAnd poor contempt on all my prideForbid it, Lord, that I should boastSaving the death of Christ my LordAlthough it be my deathSaying things that charm me mostI sacrifice them to his bloodSee from his head, his hands, his feetSorrow and loveFlow mingled downDid e'er such love and sorrow meetOr thorns compose so rich a crownWhere the whole realmOf the world isOf nature mineThat were a present far too smallLove so amazingSo divineDemands my soulMy life to beMy life, my all
