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How deep the |
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Father's love for us, |
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How vast beyond all measure |
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That He should give |
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His only Son |
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To make a wretch |
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His treasure |
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How great the pain of searing loss, |
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The Father turns |
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His face away |
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As wounds which mar the chosen |
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One, Bring many sons to glory |
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Behold the |
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Man upon a cross, |
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My sin upon |
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His shoulders |
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Ashamed I hear my mocing voice, |
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Call out among the scoffers |
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It was my sin that help |
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Him there |
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Until it was accomplished |
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His dying breath has brought me life |
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I know that it is finished |
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I will not boast in anything |
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No gifts, no power, no wisdom |
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But I will boast in |
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Jesus Christ |
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His death and resurrection |
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Why should |
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I gain from |
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His reward? |
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I cannot give an answer |
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But this I know with all my heart |
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His wounds have paid my ransom |
