***
How deep the Father's love for us,
How vast beyond all measure:
That He should send His only Son,
To make a wretch His treasure.
How great the pain of searing loss;
The Father turns His face away,
As wounds which mar the chosen One
Bring many sons to glory.
Behold the Man upon the Cross,
My sin upon His shoulders;
Ashamed, I hear my mocking voice
Cry 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.
***
Stuart Townend
A Capella version here.
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