(#101 in our Hymnal)
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.
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.