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?
But this I know with all my heart.
His wounds have paid my ransom
But this I know with all my heart
His wounds have paid my ransom