How deep the Father's love for us,

how vast beyond all measure.

That He would give his only Son

to make a wretch His treassure.

How great the pain of searing loss,

the Father turns His face away

as wounds which mark the chosen one,

bring many life to glory.

Behold the man upon a cross,

my sin upon his shoulders.

Ashamed I hear my mocing 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 finnished.

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 has paid my ransom.