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 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.
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.
Words by Stuart Townend.
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