|
How deep the Father's love for us, how vast beyond all measure |
|
That he should give his only son, to make a wretch his treasure |
|
How great the pain of searing loss, the Father turned his face away |
|
As wounds which mar the chosen one, bring many sons to glory |
|
Behold the man upon a cross, my sin upon his shoulders |
|
Ashamed, I hear my mocking voice call out among the scoffers |
|
It was my sin that held him there until it was accomplished |
|
His dying breath has brought me life; I know that it is finished |
|
I will not boast in anything: no gifts, no power, no wisdom |
|
But I will boast in Jesus Christ; his death and resurrection |
|
Why should I gain from his reward? I cannot give an answer |
|
But this I know with all my heart: his wounds have paid my ransom |
