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. . . 2. 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