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 turned his face away
As wounds which mark the chosen one,
bring many sons to glory


Behold the man upon a 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

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
: his wounds have paid my ransom