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.