What grace is this! My Lord and King
has set his face to suffering.
The Son eternal dies to bring
eternal life to me.
What great is this that very God
would stoop to lift a cross of wood
and walk a road of rock and blood,
a sinner's road, for me.
What grace is this! Though Lord of all,
he yields to Pontius Pilate's law
and lets the Roman hammers draw
a rush of blood for me.
What grace is this! Rude agonies!
With common thieves he hangs and bleeds.
The sinless Son bears each misdeed.
He pays for all, for me.
What grace is this! One wrapped in cloths
and gently laid in manger-trough,
he's taken, dead, from wretched cross
and wrapped again for me.
What grace is this? How can it be?
He wears this raw humility
to lift me to eternity.
Such grace--sweet grace--for me.
