Вступление
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
Your wounds have paid, your wounds have paid
your wounds have paid, they have paved the way.
Inst:
How great the pain of searing loss,
The Father turns His face away
As wounds which mar the chosen One,
Bring us sons to glory.
Chorus
Behold the Man upon a cross,
My sin upon His shoulders
Ashamed I hear my mocking voice,
Call out among the scoffers
You've renewed this marred heart, after all it has done
With the wounds you have bled for me.