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.
-Stuart Townend
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