How deep the Father's love for us,
how vast beyond all measure
that He should give His on—ly Son
to make a wretch His treasure.
How great the pain of sear—ing loss.
The Father turns His face away
as wounds which mar the Chosen One
bring many sons to glo—ry.
Behold the Man upon the cross,
my sin upon His shoulders.
Ashamed, I hear my mock—ing 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 fin—ished.
I will not boast in an — y — thing:
no gifts, no power, no wisdom.
But I will boast in Je — sus Christ:
His death and resurrection.
Why should I gain from His re—ward?
I cannot give an an — swer.
But this I know with all my heart:
His wounds have paid my ransom.