1 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.

2 Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
save in the death of Christ, my God:
all the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to his blood.

3 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?

4 Were the whole realm of nature mine,
that were a present far too small:
love so amazing, so divine,
demands my soul, my life, my all.

1 Quand je me tourne vers le croix
où Christ expire su le bois
mon coeur blessé rempli du deuil,
prend en dégoût mon fol orgueil.

2 Qui donc pourrait calmer ce coeur
hormis la crois de mon Sauveur?
Tous mes plaisirs, mes vains désirs,
je veux, ô Christ, te les offrir.

3 Oh vois, des mains, de son côté,
du front d'épines couronné,
douleur, angoisse, amour mêlés,
descendre pour nous racheter.

4 Si je t'offrais le monde entier
ce don serait pris es pitié.
Amour si grand, si pur, si doux
veut âme, corps, mon coeur, mon tout!