Verse 1
How deep the Father’s love for us,
how vast beyond all measure
that He should give 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.

Verse 2
Behold the Man upon the cross,
my sin upon His shoulders.
Ashamed, I hear my mocking 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 finished.

Verse 3
I will not boast in anything:
no gifts, no pow’r, 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.


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