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