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 death 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 a present far too small; Love so amazing, so divine, Demands my soul, my life, my all.قەلبىمنى خۇدا! Будь мудр будь смел ибо Бог всегда с тобою Sur le mont du Calvaire Di Seluruh Dunia shén de ér nǚ yào yǒu xìn xīn de yǎn MƏLƏKLƏR ETDİ AGAH La scelta Таныг гэх сэтгэл Jezus Chrystus jest Panem ЫДЫК БУРГАНЫМ
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